Derivations From Entirety
by Souplog
Summary: After drowning her father, Elizabeth tries to rationalize her existence with normal life, seeking a way to move on after the ordeals on Columbia. Elizabeth/Eleanor femslash. Bioshock Infinite/Bioshock 2 crossover.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This is going to be a weird story, where many liberties are taken vis-a-vis the rules of reality and the extent of the powers granted by plasmids and/or being in two universes at once. Thanks for reading in any case.

* * *

In the final moment Elizabeth closes her eyes and waits for oblivion to come. Not even oblivion; this is an unmaking, the erasure of her entire experience, of her very existence after Booker Dewitt sold her to Zachary Comstock, one father handing her over to the other. The memories are painful. Of course they would be; she never really had a life until she was twenty, and after that…well, it was an adventure; excitement, fear, agony, and love all rolled up into the span of a few days.

And death, too much death.

That must be why she feels so peaceful during her unmaking. So much death will be undone, that is its own forgiveness. Booker, her father, her real father, seems peaceful as well, sinking rapturously into the water, his eyes closed as if in prayer.

Elizabeth smiles. He wouldn't have liked that comparison.

Perhaps in this, he can find redemption; or as close to redemption as anyone is allowed. Maybe Elizabeth can even glean a little for herself.

The Elizabeths to her right disappear, and then so too do the Elizabeths to her left. What happened in their realities? It probably doesn't matter. Everything has led up to this moment; the inevitable focal point of her many destinies, the destinies of the many Columbias, and the destinies of her many Fathers.

She closes her eyes, and feels reality unfurl like drying paint.

When a surgeon anesthetizes the patient, they tell them to count backwards from 20. The patient goes unconscious before they ever get to 1.

Elizabeth counts backwards from 20.

19…18…17…16…15…

Her emotions well up in her chest. Tears trail down her cheeks and drip into the pool. How fitting that her father's final baptism should be in her tears.

And of course she never gets all the way down to 1; doesn't even get to 14. Before she can say it, something as sharp and heavy as an icepick careens into her skull.

She gasps, floundering into the water, pain wracking her body as every string and molecule of her physical make-up is erased from existence. Atom by atom she is undone, only for more atoms to fill in the empty space, two for every one, then three, then one hundred, millions. Matter in all shapes and forms shoves its way into her being; meat, calcium, nerves, synapses, electric impulses, memories…oh so many memories. The experience of every Elizabeth Comstock and every Anna Dewitt plays in her mind like a seizure-inducing horoscope.

Her lives flash before her eyes, each vision a stab of agony.

And then they stop.

Darkness. Sweet oblivion. And in the vast expanse, light. She lays on the floor, or what must be some close approximation of a floor, struggling to breathe what cannot possibly be actual air.

She regains herself, but does not move, too tired to even think about moving.

"You aren't going to spend the whole day on the ground are you?"

""Day" being a relative term in this place"

"Because time doesn't quite apply"

"Unless you let it"

"Which we haven't"

Elizabeth has never been one for rudeness, but as she pushes herself to her elbows, she can't help but level a baleful sigh at the two figures standing above her. She even summons the gall to perform half an eye-roll. Even that much is tiring.

"You two," She says.

Robert and Rosalind Lutece are as impassive as ever.

"Indeed, us two"

"Or really all of us"

"Because we are in fact an infinite number of people manifested in two"

"Such is the fate of anyone who spreads themselves across the multiverse"

"Either intentionally so, or not"

"In our case, so"

"In your case, not"

Elizabeth's headache comes back, whether either from the aftershocks of the previous ordeal, of from the twins' ridiculous speech pattern, she can't be sure. At least Rosalind has the decency to make up for it by helping her up.

"What is this?" she croaks, "How am I still alive?"

"You aren't. Not really"

"You're dead. Or rather you never had the chance to die because you never existed in the first place"

"But reality doesn't simply undo itself. Not by our understanding"

"Rather it sweeps any discrepancies under the rug"

"And pretends that they never existed in the first place"

"Even though they did"

"And do"

"Hence the three of us," Says Robert, moving to dust off nonexistent dust from Elizabeth's suddenly immaculate dress. "By all accounts none of us should exist, and yet we do"

"I don't understand," says Elizabeth, treating Rosalind with an irritated look when the woman begins fussing over the symmetry of her collar, "when I drowned Booker we should have all ceased to exist"

The twins are silent, looking to each other for a time, before returning to the baffling task of fixing up Elizabeth's clothes.

"And yet here we are, existing"

"What was that pain earlier?" asks Elizabeth

"Likely the coalescence of your many experiences into the vessel you are now"

"The sum of all your possible selves crammed into one omniscient vehicle"

"But it's just a theory, really"

"We can't be sure"

Elizabeth furrows her brow. "All I remember is the life I lived, no-one else's"

The Luteces both step back, and looking down, Elizabeth finds herself in her original clothes, as pristine as they were when she met Booker. Reaching back, she discovers that her hair is uncut. There is even her old broach; a bird in a cage.

"So right now we're…nowhere"

"Unless we wish to be anywhere else"

"Which, if you're like us, you can"

"But where am I supposed to go? Who am I supposed to even be? My whole life…my world has been erased! I have no-one! Not even…" _Booker_. "What am I supposed to do now?"

Both twins lay questionably reassuring hands on her shoulders, "You can be, quite literally, whatever you want to be"

"Wherever you want to be"

"So long as you take care to choose a universe where you aren't exactly you"

"And you won't be dead"

"Because no matter how bad things may get for you"

"At least you still have us"

Elizabeth isn't sure if that's supposed to be reassuring.

* * *

In an absolute vacuum, in a place bereft of matter, space, or time; reality pushes on its boundaries like water pressing against a submarine. The weight of infinite universes presses against this improbable microcosm, pushing against each other like pigs scampering for the trough. They fight and rush, and eventually they stampede at the erstwhile trio. The Luteces look on in faint interest, but Elizabeth panics, screaming as a tidal wave of reality crashes into her.

But the feeling is light. A crash is actually a faint ebb, a pull into warm waters, deeper, deeper into a place that isn't _here_. In the distance she can see Rosalind and Robert, floating in the abyss, as calm and composed as usual. Their hair waves comically in the water.

And just as quickly as the world was pulling, it now starts pushing. The water becomes cold; it assumes a salinity that is both comforting in its familiarity, and disconcerting in the sudden wash of senses. And what is that? That feeling of being pulled from all directions? A multitude of whirlpools spiraling around each other? Ah yes, time. That's what time feels like. As she is pulled further into reality it acquiesces into a more comfortable form; linear time. Ah, refreshing.

The tide pushes them, ever onward, further and further until Elizabeth can see the ground rushing to meet them from below, and sunlight descending from above, until finally they are regurgitated onto a beach, sputtering for air.

Until Elizabeth realizes she doesn't really need air anymore. She pauses, then shrugs. She may not need it, but air certainly is nice. Comforting. She takes a gulp-full, savoring the flavor of sea-breeze rushing down her esophagus. And in that instant of refreshment she looks up, hopeful.

She looks up, and for the second time in recent memory groans at the sight looming over her.

A lighthouse.

"Well," says Robert, wringing the water out of one of his socks.

"Déjà vu if I've ever seen it," says Rosalind, slicking back her hair, her jacket folded over her arm.

* * *

Thankfully it wasn't one of _those_ lighthouses, just a regular one by the beach. And near the beach is a town. Not a fantastical town. A small, mundane, regular town. After getting over the novelty of walking on solid earth (and not structures suspended in mid-air by atoms in quantum-lock), Elizabeth comes to appreciate the regularity of it all.

The locals look at her strangely, if not because of her sopping appearance, then probably because of her somewhat outdated clothes. The Luteces on either side of her receive similar looks, but they don't seem to mind very much. Elizabeth is grateful when the looks finally pass. Perhaps they are not so out-of-place after all.

The walk is both long and short. Objectively they walk several miles, but Elizabeth knows the manipulation of space when she feels it, and the Luteces seem to be doing it seamlessly, at once hurrying their journey and making it seem natural at the same time. As a result, they travel several miles in only thirty minutes, enjoying a pleasant stroll along the scenic route, finally arriving at a pleasant little bed-and-breakfast on the outskirts of town. The sun is setting and their clothes have already dried.

Elizabeth follows the Luteces in, and doesn't say anything as they secure lodging for the night. She isn't sure where they got the strange money they use to pay. The little old lady that runs the place is hardly nonplussed, but smiles and accepts her strange houseguests anyway.

"If you don't care to go into town, you can relax in the parlor. Or in your rooms. We'll have a nice mincemeat pie for dinner"

And with that the old lady takes her leave. Robert and Rosalind settle into armchairs that are symmetrically arranged on either side of the fireplace. They sip their tea, chatting about the culinary inadequacies of mincemeat pie; Rosalind is against it, and Robert is for. Elizabeth sits and then lies on the couch, too weary to care about decorum. It has hardly been three hours since she drowned Booker Dewitt.

"How come…how come I feel normal? Before I was…powerful. Like I knew everything. I could do anything"

"Are you talking about the omnipresence?"

"Or the omniscience?"

Elizabeth sighs. "Both, I guess"

Rosalind nods curtly, "Ah. We turned that off for you"

"Though you can turn it back on if you wish"

"Tough I can't imagine why you would want to"

"Does strange things to your head, knowing everything"

"And being everywhere"

Elizabeth nods. "Good point. Hey, what's the plan here? Why aren't we talking about…I don't know, what we're supposed to do now that everything's…over"

"Well everything is clearly not over, but we see what you mean"

Robert puts down his tea. "We had hypothesized that upon the completion of Mr. Dewitt's ordeal that we,"

"And you"

"Would cease to exist"

"Thus making up for our mistake of stealing you from your father in the first place"

"And yet we still exist," says Elizabeth, "So where are we even supposed to go from here?"

An uncertain silence falls across the room; a dizzying vertigo worse that Columbia's greatest heights. The Luteces offer no answer, and somewhat awkwardly return to their original chat, but Elizabeth can tell that they are as uncertain as her. Is it because they truly have no idea? Or because they still, even now, feel responsible for what they did to her?

* * *

In the morning Elizabeth isn't even surprised to wake up to the sight of Rosalind and Robert on either side of her bed, looking down at her. She has no doubt that they timed this perfectly, and she doesn't complain as they rouse her from bed, laying out some clothes for her to wear; clothes similar to the stuff the townspeople were wearing.

As soon as she's showered and dressed, they adjourn to the breakfast table, whereupon Rosalind proposes that they might go to London. Why London? Elizabeth asks, to which Robert asks her where she would rather be going.

"Does it matter?" she asks.

The Luteces answer at once.

"Of course it matters"

"Your opinion is integral to the decision-making process"

"We can go wherever you would like"

"Though an English-speaking country would certainly be easier"

"Paris," she wants to say. It's at the tip of her tongue. But the impulse to say it is quashed by the heavy weight of its connotations. Booker had so wanted to just go to Paris; to forget about everything that had happened so that she could be happy. She doubts the city could ever make her feel happy now.

"London sounds nice"

* * *

London, as it turns out, _is_ nice, despite its tendency for winding streets and confusing architecture. The Luteces certainly seem to like it. They bought a large (for London anyway) two-floor flat in a particularly rich part of an already rich borough. Per Elizabeth's request, it is the flat closest to the ground.

She isn't sure where the twins keep getting their money because it seems at this point that they have an unlimited supply. They buy her anything she requests, not that she requests much. A violin here, some art supplies there. She spends her time cooped up in her bedroom working on projects and brooding. The Luteces do not bother her, and bring her meals when she doesn't come down to the dinner table, which is often. They seem determined to give her space, which is fine because she's determined to have it.

After a week or two she decides that enough is enough and she it's about time she came out of her shell. She realizes that it's been days since she left her room. She probably smells bad.

Upon descending the stairs she is met not by two Luteces, but one. It is a little jarring. Both scientists are so often in each other's company that seeing one without the other is like waking up to discover than not only is your roommate suddenly without legs, they are also bafflingly nonchalant about it.

Robert Lutece is dressed in his typical tweed, though the elegance of the ensemble is ruined by a frilly pink apron worn over it, as well as some kind of kerchief. He appears to be dusting things, primly and properly running a feather-duster over the large collection of doodads that have already accumulated in the flat. He hums a jaunty little tune.

"Oh, hello," Says Robert alerted to her presence by the sound of her shoes on the wooden stairs. "So glad to see you out of your room." He does not stop dusting.

"Where's Rosalind?"

"She decided to secure herself employment at a local university. I advised her that further scientific inquiry might only land us in more trouble but," He makes a noise approximate to, but not quite, a sigh, "she is headstrong"

"Aren't you going to join her?"

"Perhaps. Eventually. I think for now I would like to focus on more domestic pursuits"

The intention isn't very subtle. "You mean like babysitting me"

"I wouldn't have put it so bluntly, but yes"

"I don't need a caretaker"

"Oh? Excellent. I take it then that you no longer need me to cook your food for you, or bring it to your room since you can't be bothered to come down to eat." He pauses in the middle of dusting. "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate"

"I'm not made of glass you know. After all you put me through I would think that you knew that"

His shoulders slouch, slightly. It's a miniscule difference but it makes him seem frail beyond his years. He doesn't look at her. "That doesn't make me feel any less responsible for you"

Elizabeth feels like a heel. She awkwardly climbs down the rest of the stairs. How to approach this?

"I've never cooked anything before"

"A surprisingly rewarding pursuit, I would say"

"I don't suppose…you could show me?"

Robert turns, facing her. Elizabeth meets his inscrutable gaze, only somewhat uncomfortable. His expression, at first stoic, changes to reflect slight approval. He begins to undo his apron.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt. You can't be worse at it than my sister." He hands her the apron. "Put this on"

Elizabeth follows him into the kitchen, negotiating the garment over her arms. The kitchen is spacious, allowing for all manner of cooking implements to be fit in. It is much neater than the living room and studies. "Rosalind can't cook?"

"Absolutely not. Doesn't have the patience for it"

"That's so strange"

"How so?"

"Well I always figured you two were kind of the same"

Robert thumbs through a notebook filled with what Elizabeth takes to be recipes. "Just because we are alternate reality versions of one another doesn't mean we don't have our differences"

"Still, you two are like, crazily similar"

"Yes, perhaps; our mannerisms, modes of thinking and fashion sense are, as you so drolly put it, _crazily_ similar. But we are distinct individuals. For instance my sister is obstinate to the point of near obsessiveness." He stops at a particular page, nodding in satisfaction and passing Elizabeth the flipbook. The page reads BEEF CASSEROLE. "Me, on the other hand: I enjoy cooking"

Elizabeth has the grace not to point out the fastidious micro-notes scrawled over every empty margin of the page.

Rosalind Lutece returns home to the eyebrow-raising sight of her brother and Elizabeth greeting her at the door with a tray and drinks.

"This is very…domestic, of you," she says, taking a glass of what seems to be Champaign. "Look at us challenging conventional gender roles." She takes a sip. Not Champaign, ginger ale. Telling.

Elizabeth moves to take Rosalind's coat. "Robert has been teaching me how to cook"

"Has he? How…maternal. Oh," She shrugs out of her coat, "thank you."

They adjourn to the table where a valiant attempt at beef casserole sits in ceramic bowl. The table is set, and someone even lit a candle.

"So, how was work?"

"Dull. Despite the time that has passed, the scientists of this universe aren't as advanced as I would like them to be, and the funding for research isn't nearly enough for the hardware I need. Which reminds me," She looks to Robert, "when are you going to join me at the university? You've spoiled me for brainstorming on my own"

"I already told you, someone needs to take care of the flat. Besides, I'd like to take a rest from science for now if it's all the same to you, considering what happened the last time someone threw funding at us willy-nilly"

"Well we now know not to create a machine that creates portals into alternate universes. Lesson learned. We can pursue other matters. And besides, we can hire a housekeeper to clean things"

"Yes, but that's leaving out the matter of-"

"I want to go to university"

Elizabeth's interruption jars the conversation.

"You want to what now?"

Elizabeth sighs. "You don't have to pretend. I've been a sad case for the last couple weeks. I mean… my dress hasn't even been cleaned in a while. Clearly this is a cry for help"

"I wasn't going to say…"

"Rosalind!"

"What? She's twenty years old for goodness sake; she's smart enough to figure out when we're tip-toeing around a pink elephant"

"No, it's okay," assures Elizabeth, looking to Robert's frown, "I've been thinking about it a lot and I think I've gotten over everything that happened. I'll…never be completely okay. I mean I killed my own father for god's sake. I…I was cooped up in a tower for twenty years. That kind of thing doesn't leave you, you know?

"But I don't want it to define me anymore. I still resent you a little bit for what happened. But I'm not stupid. I know Booker was as much at fault, and Comstock most of all….but I can't keep blaming people for problems that don't even really exist anymore.

"That's why I want to go to college or…something. Try to make a life for myself, a fresh start. I don't know. Does that make sense to you?"

The Luteces stare at her. Then they look at each other. Rosalind, if she were predisposed to smiling, might have smiled.

"I can have you enrolled within the week"

Robert sighs. "Which means I probably have to get a job. Fantastic"

"Buck up. There's probably an opening at the local KFC"

"Very funny"

If she sees Robert's scathing glare, Rosalind gives no sign.

Elizabeth relaxes, unwinding a bit more than she has in quite some time. It isn't much of a plan, but now she has something to work towards. She thinks about Booker Dewitt. Would he be happy for her, now that she is taking steps to move on? She likes to think so.

* * *

University life is something of an adjustment, as is natural, but before too long Elizabeth begins to thrive. The environment is unlike any she had found herself in before. There are no religious fanatics (or at least none impolite enough to behave as such), no floating buildings, and best of all she is around people her own age! How delightful!

And so many different kinds of people too! Some dress in all black, some in all manner of colors. Some wear their hair short, some wear their hair long. Some dress conservatively, some dress in outfits that would have caused heart attacks on Columbia. It is enough to make Elizabeth flush at the very sight of a miniskirt.

And how approachable they are! Having limited interactions with boys, she can't be 100% certain, but she suspects that she has been hit on a number of times. And by a few girls too! What a strange place the world below is. Perhaps she will consult the television later to make sure; modern entertainment has taught her much about modern social morays.

As for the classes, much of it is old hat. Science and mathematics do not interest her much, having seen the potential for their misuse (not to mention that she has already mastered highly advances concepts and theories from both). She opts instead for an artistic curriculum. She loads her coursework with painting, music, sculpture, theatre, and in a pique of whimsy, digital imaging software. It is all very fascinating, and she is sad when she must drop a few classes not two weeks into the semester when someone finally figures out that she is several dozen credits over the semester cap.

The Luteces seemed disappointed at her class choices. Like many scientists they become snooty when confronted with the _liberal arts_. But they are supportive, going so far as to hold their tongues when Elizabeth brings her new friends over to the flat and they remark on how retro the place is (though they are always confused as to why Elizabeth lives with the Luteces in the first place. Are they relatives? Friends? Elizabeth has adopted the Lutece name, but she keeps their exact relationship to her ambiguous).

And as far as friends go, the group she spends time with are a nice lot. At first friend-making was a little hit-and-miss; people were not accustomed to her unbridled forwardness, or else were not receptive to her sunny personality. A few first attempts at friendship landed her in situations she did not enjoy (nightclubs, recreational drug-use, an upperclassman who got a little too handsy for his own good). But she eventually found a few friends in the art departments that genuinely liked her for who she was and didn't try to change her into something she wasn't; the true mark of friendship Elizabeth would say.

The days fade to weeks, and then to months, and before too long Columbia seems all but a distant dream. But Elizabeth isn't a fool. She never forgets. The Luteces are a constant reminder, and some of the more esoteric experiments they leave lying around the house are reminiscent of Columbian machinery.

Sometimes Elizabeth loses herself in thoughts of the flying city. Her concentration lapses just a smidge. In these moments of dwindled lucidity Elizabeth forgets to suppress her nature, and she starts remembering the future. It is a rare occurrence, and before she can see too much she always catches herself and, as if reminding herself to breathe, she forces closed her window into infinity.

Life can be quite ruined, after all, when you know what's coming.

* * *

"Will you stop fussing over me? No one can tell if I have wrinkles in my shirt or not"

"Well they can't know if you cover your blazer just so…and there. Isn't that nice?"

"This isn't the early 1940s you know. People have all sorts of different styles now"

"Is that some sort of jab at my fashion sense? I'll have you know that I get a lot of compliments on my ensemble"

"Really? The same clothes you've been wearing since…well forever. Seriously, I saw you wearing the exact same thing in a kinetoscope once"

"You don't like my clothes. Noted. I shan't give you fashion advice any longer"

Elizabeth sighs. She never would have guessed that Rosalind Lutece could be this…childish. "No, I- come on. That's not what I meant"

"No, no. I see how it is. It's only natural that you would rebel at your age. I did it myself after all"

"You are not my mother figure Rosalind. You are my _friend_. I have no psychological urge to contradict you for contradiction's sake"

"Well why not? Am I not matronly enough? Here," Rosalind demands, holding open her arms, "Rest your your head upon my bosom"

Elizabeth sighs again. "Really? You don't have to play at being my Mom," She says, not even caring that the people at the adjacent table can hear everything they're saying; a captive audience that can't help but hear all the awkward things that Rosalind says. There's no point in being embarrassed about the Luteces; they are an odd pair and nothing is liable to change that. Besides, there is something endearing about their dogged need for Elizabeth's approval, even if half that desire stems from guilt.

It is in the spirit of Elizabeth's own affection for Rosalind that she stands up and, rolling her eyes, walks around the table and bends down to give her a hug. Rosalind's embrace is much as she would have expected: a little rigid; clinical, as if she has looked up instructions for how to hug on the internet (Elizabeth would not put that past her). It is, however, a warm feeling, and she doesn't even mind when the hug lasts a little longer than is usually comfortable.

"Okay," she says finally, tapping Rosalind's back to let her know that the hug is nearing its end, "that's probably good enough for now"

"Oh good. I was worried that I would be late for my next lecture"

Elizabeth rolls her eyes. It's just like her to gloss over a touching moment with glibness. "I'm sure your students would have been lost without you"

"Indubitably. Sometimes I'm surprised they can summon the intelligence to navigate the building." Rosalind stands, gathering her materials in a great sturdy folder bag. She looks every bit the genteel bag-lady of yesteryear. "I'll be off then. It really is so nice having lunch with you, we should do it more often"

"Yeah, sure"

And with that Rosalind is off, leaving Elizabeth at her table. She plays with her food a little, no longer very hungry. Her appetite had left with Rosalind's departure.

Elizabeth doesn't like being alone. It reminds her too much of those first twenty years of isolation. She begins to remember her darker moments; lives that she lived, and yet didn't live. Gods don't have the luxury of forgetting after all. She startles herself at the thought. When had she started thinking of herself as a God? She shuts off her abilities in alarm. Time spent reflecting on nothing eventually becomes time spent reflecting on too much.

Besides, eating lunch alone has never been one of Elizabeth's favorite activities. Before she can leave however, she notices a figure approaching from the corner of her eye. Thinking nothing of this, Elizabeth makes as if to gather her things, but before too long the figure has gotten close enough that its intention is obvious.

"May I sit?" the figure asks. A woman. British accent. To be expected in the UK.

"Sure," Elizabeth replies.

She turns, and upon laying eyes on the new arrival tries very hard not look amused. The woman is dressed in a professorial tweed blazer that drapes loosely over a crumpled blouse. Tight jeans cling to long legs, and they might have been stylish if there weren't so many black stains of indiscernible origin smudged all over them. The woman's face is pleasant enough, though her dark hair is gathered in a disheveled bun that does little to restrain streams of hair from falling in front of her face. Hefted over each of her shoulders is a large tote bag full of books.

She looks tired, and carries an air of general fatigue. Still, she smiles when Elizabeth regards her, and puts down her bags as if they weigh nothing at all, though judging by the table's sudden creaking they must weigh quite a lot indeed. She stretches her arms over her head, wincing a bit when a few joints crack, but sighing in relief when she's done. She takes off her jacket and puts it on the back of the chair opposite Elizabeth, and then leaves to get herself some food.

What an odd person.

Elizabeth considers leaving before she can get back, but that would be rude, and she doesn't want to give the woman the wrong impression. Lamenting the misfortune of the situation, Elizabeth does not move from her place, instead opting to slowly, languorously, go about finishing the food on her plate. After sitting with the woman for ten minutes, she can politely excuse herself.

Simple.

The woman returns with a heap of food; an indiscriminate selection of meat, vegetables, fruit, and desserts tower on top of her plastic plate. She places it in between her bags expertly, without so much as shifting the balance of the food tower. Then she brings her bags to the floor and pushes her food to the side. In front of her she lays a hefty notebook, opens it to a certain page, and starts making notes. Beside the notebook is a tablet, and the woman glances at it every now and then, making gentle adjustments with her other hand.

Almost absentmindedly, she occasionally reaches over to her food pile, plucks some random articles with her spoon, and places a large portion of it into her mouth. She chews, swallows, and then reaches over for more food.

Elizabeth is not a stickler for proper dining etiquette (far from it in fact) but she cannot help being slightly unnerved by the woman's voracious eating habits. Still, she can't look away, mesmerized by the bizarreness of it. In her concentration the woman does not look up, and Elizabeth feels comfortable staring.

That is until the woman glances up at her, eyes curious. She smiles.

Elizabeth freezes and looks away, guilty at having been caught. "Sorry," she mutters, hurriedly turning her attention to her food.

"Nothing to be sorry about," says the woman, smiling good-naturedly, "I am making a spectacle of myself after all"

Elizabeth smiles. "I wasn't going to say, but…yeah"

The woman's eyes widen with amusement. "An American accent. No wonder you have no sense of propriety"

"Big words for someone who treats their spoon like a shovel"

The woman smiles. "Fair enough. I hope you don't take too much offense though, I've found that I can't concentrate on my work unless I eat like this"

It isn't difficult to let pass. "No problem"

Elizabeth leans forward to try to read the contents of the notebook. Spotting this, the woman obliges her by flipping it over. The page is filled with equations. The notes are so small that they ignore the lines and margins of the paper completely, filling the empty space so that they seem like millions of ants crawling over the page.

"You write so small"

The woman laughs, "Everyone tells me that, but I can't seem to change my ways." She makes as if to take back her notebook but Elizabeth stops her.

"Hold on." She scrutinizes the mess, turning over to previous pages, all of them similarly filled. A pattern begins to develop.

"This is quantum mechanics"

The woman looks impressed. "You're right"

Elizabeth furiously turns through the pages, the pattern assuming a distressingly familiar shape. "Are you working on quantum levitation?"

The woman's expression sharpens and she snatches back her notebook. "How did you know that?"

"_Who are you?_"

Elizabeth's reciprocal intensity takes her by surprise. "My name is Professor Eleanor Lamb. Who are you?"

* * *

"Do you know who she is?"

The Luteces have a tendency to communicate without saying anything at all; which is odd, considering their habit of talking to each other all the time. They talk incessantly, jabbing at one another with wordplay that is less planned and more choreographed. Elizabeth has a theory: their conversations are a performance, word games that they use like a hobby to tease third parties and flies on the wall.

But when they really need to talk, to convey information from one Lutece to the other, all they need to do is glance into each other's eyes.

Like they're doing now. Data transferal at the speed of light.

"Oh, you mean Professor Lamb?"

"So you do know her"

The Luteces carry on their activities, unconcerned now that they've heard what it was Elizabeth had been so agitated about when she rushed into the flat's front door. Rosalind returns to his notes, and Robert returns to the diligent task of making tea. There are three cups.

"A brilliant woman." Says Rosalind, writing as he talks, "we've met a few times, though she always seems to forget"

"We've no right to complain," says Robert, patiently waiting for the teabags to steep, "we always forgot people's names when we were younger"

Elizabeth crosses into the center of the room, shooting incredulous looks from one Lutece to the other like a swiveling auto-turret. "Then you know she's working on quantum levitation!"

"It's called the _Lutece principle_"

"Only hacks who didn't understand it called it quantum levitation"

"And that was most of the scientific community"

"Or really the _entire_ scientific community except for me"

"Us"

"Of course. That's what I meant"

They exchange mild looks that might have been called glares.

Elizabeth sits on the lime-green fainting couch, a decorative choice that she didn't agree with, but nevertheless allowed because lime-green seemed to be the twins' favorite color. She ponders the implications of her meeting that day. Could a scientist researching quantum levitation be a repeat of history? Or something harmless?

As she settles into the deft padding, struggling, as she always does with this couch, to find comfort on the puffed up cylinder of a pillow, Rosalind sets down a teacup on the adjacent coffee table.

"Is that tea?" Asks Elizabeth, "I don't like-"

"It's coffee, dear, look closer. Milk, two sugars, as per your preference"

Elizabeth sits up. Upon inspection the liquid in the cup is indeed coffee, and prepared exactly the way she likes it too. Rather than question how Rosalind knew she was coming, or how she had timed the creation of the beverage so masterfully, Elizabeth takes a sip. Hot relief burns its way down her throat. Coffee always has that effect on her disposition.

Robert, a sucker for the chance to have a tea party, brings a tray to the table laden with little cakes and sandwiches. He takes a seat on the sofa and beckons for Elizabeth to try some. Rosalind, not to be left out, joins them, primly taking a seat on the far end of the fainting couch.

It is these impromptu family moments that makes staying with the Luteces at once maddening and heart-warming.

"We understand your worry dear"

"Truly we do"

"But just because one woman is on track to create a floating atom"

"Doesn't mean that she's out to create a floating city"

"Much less Columbia"

"Besides, she's still years away from cracking the formula"

"It's rather endearing to watch, actually"

"Like watching someone discover your favorite movie for the first time"

Both of them sip their tea at the same time.

"How can you be so laissez faire about this? We don't know the first thing about her. She could be a dictator in the making, or even one of you all over again"

If they take offense they don't show it.

"We know everything about her that we'll ever need to know"

"You, on the other hand, are the one who is scared"

"If you're so concerned why don't you just watch her yourself?"

"Don't worry. As far as we've seen she doesn't bite"

Another synchronized sip.

"Okay you guys _have_ to be doing that on purpose"

* * *

Eleanor Lamb, as it turns out, is head of the physics department. She used to be head of the mathematics department, and before that she was head of biology. Before that, she was a prominent anthropologist, but opted to settle in London to provide her family with a stable environment. All of this Elizabeth is able to find out easily enough with the dedicated use of Google (she can never get enough of the internet's capabilities).

Everything else about the woman is shrouded in mystery; where she came from, how she is able to master so many fields in such little time, what her family is like (the woman is an extremely private person). Eleanor Lamb is an enigma, wrapped in a riddle, wrapped in rumpled fashion sense.

Elizabeth spots her easily enough, rushing from her office to a classroom to the cafeteria, always with several books stuffed into her bags. For the most part she dresses conservatively, having an aversion to the cold that warrants the liberal use of blazers, sweaters, long pants and skirts. She is an attractive woman, but her clothes leave a lot to the imagination. The student body is enamored with her though, and people clamor to get into her classes, and after sitting in on a basic lecture on quantum mechanics, Elizabeth can see why.

The woman is very engaging, and her smile is infectious. She explains the most complex concepts in way that pervades even the simplest mind. Many a student walks out of her class brimming with newly-acquired knowledge, only for that knowledge to unravel hours later as Professor Lamb's words fade from memory. An excellent teacher she may be, but she doesn't require her students to take notes nearly as often as she should.

In a word, Eleanor Lamb is brilliant, and Elizabeth finds this very disturbing. Rosalind tells her not to worry, but Rosalind is hardly impartial.

Rosalind Lutece, having climbed the professorial ladder rather quickly, had caught Eleanor's eye, and was chosen to teach many of her classes so as to free up her time. Students dreaded her classes, as Rosalind Lutece was absolutely brutal in her teaching methods. Many students dropped out, but the ones that stayed were guaranteed to go far. Eleanor, grateful for the favor she believes Rosalind had paid her, had proclaimed them to be friends, and often intrudes on the Lady Lutece's office with tea and a tin of cookies. Rosalind never minds this, and with every cookie she is offered, allows Eleanor Lamb to sink further into her good graces. She never let on, however, that she knows exactly where Eleanor's research is going, and how far away she was from discovering a true scientific marvel.

Because if you can suspend a particle in space, who's to say you can't also tap a particle in another dimension?

"If you're going to stare at me, you may as well join me too"

Elizabeth jumps from her place behind the bushes. She hadn't been hiding exactly, but after she had spotted Eleanor Lamb sitting on a bench without her books for once (and without her jacket! She's wearing a tight T-shirt with a cat on it), she couldn't help stopping to watch her.

"I wasn't staring," She says, rounding the bush and making her way to the bench as if nothing had happened, "I just thought it was strange seeing you without your books"

"Strange? My, my, have you been watching me?"

She had. But that doesn't mean she has to give the older woman the satisfaction of knowing that. "Don't flatter yourself"

Eleanor laughs. "You shouldn't exhaust yourself coming up with lies, it's unbecoming"

"I wasn't lying"

"Uh-huh," Eleanor relaxes against the back of the bench, throwing her arm over the top. "You know," she begins languidly, "I've been watching you too"

"I told you I wasn't-"

Eleanor ignores her. "I keep thinking to myself, how is it that an art student is so familiar with quantum mechanics? Much less a theory as ambiguous as quantum levitation"

"It isn't that hard"

"Actually it is. Incredibly hard. But not for someone like you. You're Rosalind's girl aren't you?"

"She's a relative. How do you know that?"

"Okay maybe "watching" was a poor choice of words. I've just been asking around about you. Imagine my surprise when I found out Rosalind was housing an art student. I wasn't aware that woman was capable of warmth"

"Don't make baseless assumptions"

"Hey," Eleanor raises her hands in supplication, "don't look at me like that, I was just joking"

They sit in silence for a time. It isn't awkward, but it isn't comfortable either.

"Actually," begins Eleanor, a tad tentatively, "I'm glad that you're so close. It explains how you were able to grasp my notes so quickly. Which brings me to a proposition I actually have for you…"Eleanor's demeanor falters as Elizabeth continues to look at her sharply. "Er…why do I get the feeling that you don't like me?"

Never one to be called out on negative emotions, Elizabeth backpedals. "I don't dislike you," she assures, "I'm just wary of you"

"Wary? Whatever for?"

"Never you mind"

"Well if a pretty girl says she's wary of me then of course I'm going to mind." Elizabeth doesn't reply. "…Okay." Eleanor clears her throat, unused to being regarded so suspiciously by a student. "Well, that aside, I was hoping that you could come work for me. As an assistant"

"You want me to work for you? You don't even know me"

"Like I said. I've been asking around about you and I think you would be a good fit"

"Like as a TA?"

"No. More in a personal capacity, with the research I don't share with the university"

"Like quantum levitation"

"Exactly. As well as a few side projects. See? You get it. This can work out"

"Don't presume things. I haven't told you if I want to do it or not"

"Well why not? You can get some experience working with an eminent scientist, _aaaaand_ I would pay you"

"I'm not interested in science. I'm already in the art track"

"And I can respect that. I wouldn't demand too much of your time. But I really do think having someone like you to bounce ideas off of would be good for me. I may not look it but I have trouble balancing out all the thoughts in my head." She laughs in self-derision, "I'm not really all that reliable actually"

Elizabeth remembers the tiny muddled notes, the shabby clothing; she has no trouble believing that this woman is scatter-brained. It makes her a little more human. But that doesn't make the offer any less strange or sudden.

* * *

"I don't think so. Look I don't know you very well and…just, no. Sorry. Excuse me"

"Robert?" calls out Elizabeth upon entering the door, "Rosalind? Are either of you home?"

"In here"

Elizabeth follows the voice into the living room whereupon she freezes at the sight of several overwhelming oddities. The room is much tidier than it usually is. No papers and knick-knacks haphazardly tossed onto the coffee table, no books out of place or piled on the ground in incongruent towers. There are decorative pillows on the couch and an artfully-folded blanket draped across the sofa. Tastefully arranged on the console table are even a few pictures of the Luteces and Elizabeth, displayed like family photos. A quick peak at the stairway reveals a clichéd trio of similar hanging pictures, the one in the middle depicting Elizabeth and the ones on either side of her Robert and Rosalind.

And amidst all this, as if she had always been there, is Eleanor Lamb is chatting with the Luteces. She is plainly amused as she looks down at the smiling faces in the photos (smiling, here, is a relative term, as neither Lutece is very good at smiling. In most of the pictures Elizabeth is the only one who looks even remotely happy).

"Hello Elizabeth," Says Rosalind, walking over and taking her jacket, "I forgot to mention at lunch today that we would have company"

"Yes, we thought it was about time we entertained," Says Robert.

"And how lucky for me," Says Eleanor, placing an easy hand on the man's shoulder. "I had no idea you had such an accomplished twin brother, Rose"

Rosalind makes a kind of shrugging motion as she hangs up Elizabeth's jacket. "He refuses to re-enter science. I don't know what's wrong with him"

"There's nothing wrong with me. I just wanted to seek out other options, expand my horizons. I'm sure that's something our guest can understand"

"That's true," Agrees Eleanor, gracing Elizabeth with an affable smile, "it's important to try out as many things as you can"

Without warning Elizabeth marches right up to the professor and tugs her to the side, dragging her into the hallway.

"What are you doing here?" She hisses.

Eleanor is unperturbed, "Rose invited me. How are you two related again? I don't see much of a resemblance"

"This is almost harassment. You really are following me aren't you?"

"What? No." Eleanor places her hand on her heart, "I am honestly here because Rose asked me to be. It has nothing to do with the offer you rejected earlier"

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely"

Elizabeth scrutinizes her for a few seconds before backing down. "I'm not sure I believe you. But….fine. Sorry about…pulling you out here"

Eleanor laughs. "It's no problem. You are a refreshing change of pace from my usual students"

"I'm not one of your students"

"So you aren't"

The two of them rejoin the Luteces in the living room; Eleanor a little smug, and Elizabeth a little awkward. They don't talk to each other very much as the Luteces have engulfed Eleanor in an impromptu discussion about research. They would never tell her as much, but Elizabeth can tell that they appreciate the company of a like-minded individual.

Eventually Eleanor is ushered into the dining room with Elizabeth trailing along. She finds it amusing how much effort the twins are putting into being good hosts, and she smiles when Robert reveals the spread he has prepared for the evening. The conversation during dinner does not falter, much to Elizabeth's surprise, and she has fun interjecting every now and then when she feels the Luteces' clinical manner is overwhelming their guest.

"Sorry about them," Elizabeth says, handing Eleanor her jacket as she is about to leave. Rosalind, having drunk too much wine, has passed out in the living room, while Robert is putting everything away and washing dishes.

"They are a delightful pair, just…a bit difficult to keep up with"

"Yes. But they're family so I love them anyway"

Eleanor hums in approval. "I know exactly what you mean." She slips on her shoes, and bids Elizabeth goodbye, but she hesitates at the door. "It was…" she turns, expression sheepish"…wrong of me to be so pushy earlier today. I'm not really one for tact, if you hadn't noticed. It's one of my few character flaws"

"You mean along with humility?" Elizabeth smiles at the self-depreciating humor. "That's not an apology"

Eleanor smiles in return, her cheer restored. "You're not going to let up on me are you?"

"I don't think I will"

Eleanor laughs. "Cheeky girl." She looks into Elizabeth's eyes for a moment. "I really would like it if you worked with me though"

"Weren't you just now apologizing for being too pushy?"

"I'm hoping you won't hold that against me"

Elizabeth sighs. "You really are unbelievable," she says, even as she finds the professor's cheekiness endearing. "I'll think about it alright?"

"Excellent! Truly excellent!" Eleanor says, shuffling in place as if to look through her pockets to make sure everything is there, though it's obvious she's waiting for Elizabeth to say something else. "But you know…"

Elizabeth rolls her eyes. "You won't get any more from me. I said I'll think about it and I will." She pushes Eleanor toward the door, though she smiles as she does so. "Now get going"

Spotting the smile, Eleanor leaves the flat in a good mood.

A few days later Elizabeth takes the job.

* * *

There are certain professors at University that stand out in one's experience; people under whose wings students are made to thrive. They are mentors; the launchers of careers; the ones who write letters of recommendation. Indeed, it is a mentor-mentee relationship that can come to define a person in their post-collegiate years.

Eleanor and Elizabeth's relationship is not exactly like this.

Eleanor Lamb is unequivocally brilliant, but her methods are insane. She insists on changing her environment every hour, moving from one place to another so that her mind isn't, as she puts it, "lulled into a false sense of security." And she always insists on carting around all of her notes and books. All of them. That means a laptop, a tablet, a collapsible chair, and about two duffel bags full of books and hand-written notes. The woman is both deceptively and scarily strong.

And she works all the time! It's a wonder she ever gets around to making lesson plans, if she does at all. Elizabeth is seriously beginning to believe that she just wings it every class.

"Is it true?" A boy asks her; some physics student with whom she shares a mandatory economics class, "are you Professor Lamb's assistant?"

"…Yeah?"

"How'd you land that? I would KILL to work with her. KILL"

"Whoa, calm down man, it's really not that great. I just fetch her tea and carry her stuff"

He stares at her, green with envy, and out of sheer discomfort she leaves, though not before shooting him the evil eye.

She wasn't being entirely truthful with him. Yes, tea-fetching is a large part of the job, but every now and then Eleanor will present Elizabeth with a sheet-full of equations and ask Elizabeth to proof-read. Elizabeth is merciless, and points out even the slightest inconsistency, making suggestions and sharing her thoughts for how to make the study better.

Eleanor will smile, nodding to Elizabeth's explanation with the enthusiasm of a child rediscovering an old toy.

"This is great Beth, I never would have spotted that"

"Thanks," Eleanor will say, and mean it. Eleanor listens and talks to her like a peer, and Elizabeth finds herself enjoying every frustrating minute of it. Not being treated like a kid is a refreshing change; refreshing enough that she even overlooks being called "Beth" (lesser people have tried and failed to give her nicknames. The only people to succeed so far have been the Luteces, who manage to get away with "darling," "sweet child," and the unfortunate but mercifully hardly-ever-used "sweetums")

All in all it is a good job; a fulfilling job.

* * *

On Eleanor's busier days Elizabeth likes to sit in the woman's office and draw in her sketchpad. The room is more peaceful than the typically packed art studio, and she can help herself to her employer's supply of snacks.

"What are you drawing?"

Elizabeth looks up from her sketchpad, a chocolate bar from Eleanor's supply still in her mouth. An older woman stands over her, clearly getting on in years but with an intensity in her eyes that makes her seem less than docile. She wears a long skirt and a blazer, much like Rosalind does, and her hair is gathered up into a tight, professional bun. A pair of no-nonsense glasses is perched on the bridge of her nose.

Rather than ask why she has intruded into Eleanor's office (or how she even got in without Elizabeth noticing), Elizabeth answers the question. "It's an abstract piece"

"I can see that. But what is it supposed to represent? What is the meaning?"

"Nothing really. I'm just trying out techniques"

"I see." The woman holds out her hand. "May I?"

"Uh, sure"

She hands the woman her sketchpad. The woman flips through the pages, pausing every now and then to scrutinize a particular piece. Though typically confident in her work, Elizabeth can't help but feel a little uneasy. She gets the strange feeling that the woman is judging _her_ rather than the artwork.

"What is this one?" Asks the woman, pulling out a loose sheet.

Eleanor looks at it. "That's a city in the sky. It shouldn't be in there"

"Why not?"

"I did it with photoshop. That's a printout." Elizabeth moves to take it.

The woman pulls it out of her grasp. "It is very beautiful. The details are so well-done that it almost feels like a real place." The woman's expression turns soft. "The angel statue in the distance is especially telling. It seems like such a hopeful image, but the mood is foreboding; eerie"

The spot-on critique catches Elizabeth's attention. "I'm glad you caught that. I haven't shown this to anyone else yet"

"So the effect was intentional?"

"Yes. I meant for it to convey the danger inherent in all lofty ideas." It was also an image straight from memory, but the woman doesn't have to know that.

"So very true." The woman touches the page as if to grasp the city itself, "But even if the idea is dangerous, that doesn't make it any less beautiful."

"Who are you anyway?" Elizabeth wants to ask, but is stopped by the sound of someone bustling into the room.

Both of them turn to see Eleanor enter, burdened, as she always is, with her many bags. The professor drops everything at once at the sight of them. "What are you doing here?" she asks, genuinely surprised.

"I came to see where you worked. You keep it much tidier than I thought you might"

Eleanor looks worried as she crosses over. "You just _decided_ to come here? Alone?"

"I'm not so fragile that I can't use public transportation by myself," Says the woman indignantly.

"We don't know when you're going to have another attack. Of course you can't be out of the house alone! Where's Sasha?"

"That psychopath who makes me take my pills? I gave her the slip hours ago. She has the mental acuity of a goat"

Eleanor sighs as she places her hand on the woman's shoulders. "That is my sister you are talking about. She must be worried sick wondering where you are"

"It serves her right for hiding my cigarettes"

Eleanor notices Elizabeth listening to them. "I see you've been distracting my assistant," She says the the old woman. "Elizabeth this is my mother, the previously eminent Dr. Sophia Lamb. In case you hadn't guessed, she is a nightmare." She says this last part looking pointedly at her mother, placing special emphasis on "Nightmare."

"This is the thanks I get for coming to visit you?"

"You know I'm busy today! What did you think you would be doing while I taught classes?"

Sophia smiles an evil little smile, "I thought I could sit in"

"No way. Not going to happen. I can't do my job if you're sitting there, judging me, asking questions you know I can't answer"

"You don't know that I was going to do that"

"Yes, I do actually. You did it before. You just don't remember because you're off your pills. Bollocks, what am I going to do with you?"

"I could take her back." Eleanor and Sophia round on Elizabeth. "I mean, I'm already done with classes today so I could take her wherever"

"You're sure?" Eleanor asks, though it's obvious she's relieved. "You don't mind?"

Eleanor puts her sketchpad back into her bag. "Sure. It's no trouble Professor. I know what it's like to have to take care of family." Besides, she thinks to herself, how hard can it be to figure out public transportation?

Very hard, as it turns out.

Being omnipresent means that Eleanor never has to take public transportation, or really any kind of transportation for that matter. She can will herself just about anywhere; it was the same ability the Luteces were able to use in Columbia to appear and disappear seemingly at random. For this reason, she is generally unfamiliar with the use of the London tube, which means she is less than useless in finding her way around it.

Fortunately, an amused Sophia Lamb helps her through it.

"And you won't tell her that I didn't actually know what I was doing right?"

"Dear, if a young person like you can't find her way through the most prolifically-used mode of transportation in London, I imagine you don't have very much going for you"

"Yes, but I'm American, and these maps are confusing"

"Eleanor is the same way. Never takes the tube anywhere"

"Then how does she get around?"

Sophia doesn't answer her. After finally arriving at Clapham Junction, the two of them board a train to the countryside. Eventually they arrive at the platform of a quaint little town that Elizabeth quickly forgets the name of.

Sophia leads her out the station and down a road that becomes something of a country lane which, after about twenty minutes of walking, becomes a giant house with several cars parked behind its gates.

"This is where you live!? Why didn't you take any of the cars?"

"Oh the girls always get upset when I drive them. They think I can't handle myself. Honestly, I'm not that old"

"The girls?"

"Nana!"

The loud creak of metal grinding on metal sounds as a young woman pushes open the gate. She rushes to the duo.

"Nana!" she says, placing both hands on the old woman's shoulders, "We've been worried sick!" She turns to Elizabeth, "Thank you! Thank you for bringing her back"

"Er, actually-"

Sophia nudges her painfully in the side. Looks like Eleanor isn't the only deceptively strong one in her family. "Nadia, this is Elizabeth Lutece, Eleanor's assistant. She escorted me here"

The young woman looks to be a little younger than Elizabeth. She has brown skin and dark hair. She puts her hand son her hips and regards Elizabeth appraisingly. "So _you're_ the Elizabeth my big sister is always going on about? Please, come in"

Walking through the gates is like stepping into the foyer to an amusement park. The house is much larger than Elizabeth would have guessed, and fancier too. If the professor has enough money to keep a place like this then she definitely has enough money to be comfortably unemployed. And why wouldn't she want to spend all her time here? She's certainly eccentric enough.

Artwork, cleanliness, deco finishes and an adorable little kitten running around; the house is splendid. Eleanor Lamb is much more than she appears to be.

Finally Nadia takes them to a sitting room, and excuses herself while she gets some beverages.

Elizabeth immediately busies herself looking around. "I had no idea Eleanor was so…"

"Wealthy?"

"Well that, but also that she had a little sister, or that she lived so far in the countryside. How does she get to work on time?"

"Eleanor actually has seven little sisters"

"You have eight daughters?"

Sophia laughs. "Heavens no. I can't even imagine trying that. Eleanor is my only biological child. The others were adopted by Eleanor herself. She is their guardian, not me. That's why they call me Nana"

Elizabeth lifts a picture from the mantle with Eleanor surrounded by her sisters, all of them smiling at the camera. It's easy to tell that they aren't related; the varying ethnicities and skin tones betray as much.

"Where did she find them all? Traveling all over the world, or…?"

"That is a personal matter, Ms. Lutece"

"Oh, yes, of course. I apologize"

"That's quite alright dear"

She continues to walk around the room, not paying attention to anything in particular. Sophia watches her with interest.

"I see my daughter's peripatetic tendencies are rubbing off on you"

"Ha. I suppose so. It almost feels like I get restless if I stay still for too long"

Sophia laughs at that. "She was like that even as a child"

"I'll bet she got into all kinds of trouble"

"Oh absolutely she did. Not that I was around to notice very often." She looks into Elizabeth's eyes. "I was a terrible mother, you see"

"Err…"

"I've made you uncomfortable haven't I?"

"Just a bit"

"Ha! I appreciate honesty in young people"

Elizabeth takes a seat nearby. Sophia's glib attitude has, strangely, made her more comfortable. Which makes her feel better about asking the following question: "You really don't seem like the kind of person to have attacks of dementia"

Sophia laughs outright. "People are never what they seem, girl. I used to be insane, now I'm just senile"

"I honestly have no idea how to respond to that"

"Good. Rendering young people speechless is something of a hobby"

Before too long Sasha returns bearing drinks and snacks. With her is another sister, Daisy.

Daisy looks exactly like Daisy Fitzroy. But there is no hint of the revolutionary in this girl; none of the fanatic. Her smile is earnest; innocent. Elizabeth supposes she ought to be alarmed, but isn't. All of that happened long ago, and this is an alternate universe.

"You have to tell us about what she's like at work," says Daisy, referring to Eleanor, "she never talks about it at home"

"She's…interesting. The student's love her to death. She's a great teacher"

"And? What do you think of her?"

"Me? She's…okay, well she can be frustrating at times, but we get along well. She's kind of mysterious actually. I wonder where she gets the strength to cart around all that stuff she's always carrying. God, I didn't even know you all existed before today"

"What about her friends?"

The conversation is slowly beginning to feel like an interrogation. Apparently Eleanor is a private person even at home. "Friends? I…don't know any of them. I guess she's pretty tight with my aunt, but other than that I wouldn't know." And then she notices Daisy and Nadia's eyes shifting from her face to the space behind her. "She's right behind me isn't she?"

"You forgot to mention yourself," says Eleanor, jumping over the back of the couch to land right next to her, "We're friends aren't we?"

She's wearing jeans and a blouse. It makes her look playful, suiting the arm suddenly flung casually over Elizabeth's shoulders. Elizabeth rolls her eyes, but the acknowledgment makes her happy.

"Right. We are"

Moments later she and Eleanor have adjourned to Eleanor's office. Sophia and the girls have allowed them their privacy.

"So," says Eleanor, pouring herself a glass of whisky, "You've met my family"

Elizabeth raises her eyebrow at the beverage but doesn't comment. She refuses a glass when Eleanor offers her one. "It's only fair. You met mine"

"I did, didn't I? And now we're closer because of it"

Elizabeth laughs. "How was class?"

"*Sigh* It was fine. I couldn't stop worrying about my blasted mother though. I swear she does this stuff to spite me"

"I'm sure she only does it because she loves you"

Eleanor snorts. "D'you know I wasn't kidding when I said she showed up to my classes once and started asking unanswerable questions. Like, "what is the morality of Rydberg's constant?""

"Ha!"

"It didn't make the least bit of sense, and the students started laughing. Hey! It's not funny!"

"It's a little bit funny," Says Elizabeth, trying not to laugh so hard.

"You are an impudent little assistant aren't you?"

"I try." Eleanor is miffed, but Elizabeth's good humor has her smiling in no time. "It's clear that she loves you though"

"Trust me; it took a long while for us to get to this point. Our relationship used to be very…strained"

"That's how it was with my mother." Elizabeth can't believe how easily she admitted that.

"Oh? Were things difficult with her?"

"In a way. Well, a lot of ways. She wasn't around growing up. Neither was my father. I had a…guardian, who watched out for me, but he was overprotective. Really overprotective. I grew up pretty sheltered. Meanwhile there was this…" Elizabeth shrugs, "Anyway, my family situation is complicated"

Eleanor nods soberly. "I get that"

"Thank you. Sorry, didn't mean to tell you my whole life's story…"

"Oh don't worry about that. I did already say we were friends didn't I? Plus my mother likes you, which is rare because she doesn't really like anybody"

"Do you really mean that?"

"What?"

"That we're friends?"

Eleanor smiles, lifting a questioning eyebrow. "Of course. Why? Am I wrong?"

"No! Not wrong. I'm just surprised is all"

"You shouldn't be. There's-"

Suddenly the door to the study opens. Nadia walks in, wearing a contrite expression. "Sorry if I'm interrupting." She looks to Eleanor, "Just wanted to let you know that Sasha's back. She's been looking for Nana for hours and she's kinda pissed. She wants to talk to you"

Eleanor smiles helplessly before excusing herself. "Sorry, I have to go take care of this"

"It's fine, go"

And so Eleanor goes, leaving Elizabeth alone in the study.

The study is very ordered, which instantly lets Elizabeth know that someone must be cleaning it regularly, and it's not Eleanor. Left to her own desires Eleanor tends to make messes more often than not. Elizabeth wanders the room, inspecting the doodads and scrutinizing the whatchamacallits. Eleanor has a lot of interesting things.

One in particular catches her eye: a metallic disk attached by several cables to a brass box that looks like a marriage between modern and Victorian technologies. Two metal studs are on top, and to the side is a diode that is obviously meant to connect them. Hm. Elizabeth connects them.

Instantly the disk lifts off the table and….floats. It just floats in the air like a rubber ducky on water.

Elizabeth already knows what it is, but she checks anyway, detaching the cables from the disk and checking for magnets. There are none. Sometime between their first meeting and now, Eleanor had figured out how to make a Lutece field, and then she had made one. Much more brilliant than Elizabeth or the Luteces had anticipated.

"Well I'll be darned" She reaches to touch it. "Ow!"

It shocks her on contact, stinging her finger. She recoils. The pain is familiar, and she realizes it reminds her of the drain induced by the Siphon. Eleanor's technology is remarkably similar.

Elizabeth checks her powers, flexing her mastery over time and space. She can feel the ripples of the universe react to her will, but the feeling is faint. Frowning, she flexes harder. Nothing. A touch of panic sets in, and she overwhelms her surroundings with her will, turning off the inhibitors in her mind tha keep her powers in check.

A tear rends open right in front of her. It engulfs her senses, rendering the world dark.

That's new.

Elizabeth blinks. She blinks again. When her eyes open she sees not Eleanor's study, but a different place entirely; a tear that she can see, but hasn't stepped through.

This is…a room she doesn't recognize. The walls are all white, with pictures hanging spaced sporadically apart. A gallery.

Elizabeth starts when she sees herself, seated on a stool, looking morosely at a half-finished piece of art, but the art is blurred and Elizabeth can't quite make it out. Alternate Elizabeth is wearing a sleeveless dress of a style current Elizabeth doesn't recognize. It certainly isn't to her tastes. She tries to walk over, but realizes she cannot. She tries to speak but the alternate version of herself cannot hear her.

After twenty minutes of watching herself stare listlessly at a painting, Elizabeth begins to doubt her abilities. Alternate Elizabeth is just…sitting there, doing nothing.

"Hey, do something"

But of course her future self can't hear her.

The door opens. Alternate Elizabeth snaps out of her reverie. She stands up, turning to address the newcomer. It's Eleanor. Strange, thinks Elizabeth, but surely not so strange that her alternate self is reacting so viscerally. The girl's body language tells of vulnerability, but also calm confidence. Eleanor steps into the room. She's wearing a tank-top and slacks. She wears a confused expression.

"Beth?" she says, hesitant, "are you alright?" Her voice is distant and echo-y. Alternate Elizabeth says nothing, taking a few slow steps forward, closer and closer. "Elizabeth?"

Alternate Elizabeth steps even closer, casually invading Eleanor's personal space. But the older woman doesn't back away. She swallows, clearly nervous. Alternate Elizabeth looks up at her with her full, blue eyes, tilts her head back, stands on her tip-toes, and…

"**What are you doing?"**

"Gah!"

Elizabeth falls backwards onto the hard surface of Eleanor's study, once again in the present. Standing above her are Rosalind and Robert Lutece.

"Huh?"

"We were asking you…"

"What you were doing?"

"What were you looking at?

"Did you see anything interesting?"

"Grah!" Frustrated, Elizabeth lifts herself to her feet. "What are you doing here?!"

"We sensed you opening a tear"

"Or rather we _felt_ you opening a tear"

"No, we _sensed_ her"

"Felt"

"Sensed"

"Guys!" Elizabeth interrupts, killing the argument before it can escalate. "Not the issue!"

"Right. Well, we **felt** you opening up a tear and came to see what the hubbub was about"

"It certainly has been a while. What did you see?"

Elizabeth blusters. "No. You don't get to bust out of nowhere and start asking me questions! You guys are being very disrespectful of my privacy!"

"Oh dear"

"We apologize for that"

"Sincerely"

"But you might want to keep your voice down"

"Huh?" asks Elizabeth, "Why? Didn't you stop time?"

The Luteces look at one another, then at her. "No," They say, and then disappear, just Eleanor enters the room.

"Elizabeth? Are you okay?"

"Er…"

"I heard shouting. What happened? Are you alirght?"

She cups Elizabeth's cheek, and Elizabeth instantly reddens, pulling away hastily. "Uuuum, yeah, no, I fell, and, uh….started cursing a bit. Yeah"

"Oh…" Eleanor doesn't look like she entirely believes her. "That's strange. Why did you fall?"

"Uh," She spots the floating disk out the corner of her eye, "that!"

Eleanor turns, walking to it. "Oh, you got it working"

Elizabeth follows her, hesitantly. "Uh-huh!"

_She's standing up on her tip-toe, head tilted back. She presses her palms against Eleanor's chest. Elizabeth backs up until the back of her thighs hit the edge of the table. She falls back, but Eleanor catches her. They look into one another's eyes, breath heavy, and Elizabeth pushes herself up and onto the table, laying down and closing her eyes as Eleanor plants kisses along the curve of her neck. The wood of the table is cool against her thighs, but everything is so indescribably hot. _

"Gah!"

"Okay, are you absolutely sure you're alright?" The professor walks up to her, placing her palm on Elizabeth's forehead to check for fever.

"Yeah!" Elizabeth ducks away from the contact. "Um. I hope it was okay for me to turn on your experiment"

"Huh? Oh actually I would have preferred if you waited for me," She turns to the disc, "though it seems you go everything running smoothly. You must have an aptitude for this. Though it requires a special power source…huh. It's not connected." She scratches her head. "That's weird"

The device must have drained a bit of her power. Elizabeth lets out a nervous laugh, "Yeah I guess." She clears her throat, "still startled me enough to make me fall though"

"You'll just have to be more careful next time." She takes the disk in her hand, bringing it higher in the air where it just suspends in space. "Remarkable isn't it?"

"Yes, it is"

"But we'll leave that for another time won't we? Here, let me get a look at your head"

"No it's fine-"

"Come on, I was in medical school for a while, I know what I'm doing"

"You went to medical school?"

Eleanor leans over her as she checks the wound, her chest in Elizabeth's face. Elizabeth gulps. She hadn't noticed Eleanor's particular…fullness before.

"Oh yes. I'm a genius remember?" She laughs, "Oh, that looks like it stings. You're getting a nice little bump there"

"Nothing time won't heal, I'm sure"

"Hold on, I think I have something for this"

"No, it's fine, Eleanor-"

"Be still, Beth"

Eleanor leans forward just a bit, her breasts brushing Elizabeth's cheek through the fabric of her shirt. Elizabeth shifts with discomfort, but relaxes as a cool sensation quite suddenly spreads over her scalp.

"Better?"

"What'd you do?"

Eleanor chuckles. "I guess you could say it's something of a home remedy I learned from my father"

As both of them are sensitive to the topic of fathers, they go silent. They suffer five awkward seconds of this and then, confident that neither of them will make a comment, they continue as if nothing has been said.

"Hey, I think I better go…"

"O- oh…so soon? I thought we could-"

"I'm just a little dizzy." It's a terrible excuse, but it's the first thing that comes to mind. "I should probably get going"

"Can I call you a cab or something? I-"

"Eleanor," Elizabeth grasps her boss's shoulder, "I'll be…I just have to go. I'll see you on Monday"

Eleanor insists that she accompany her to the train, and Elizabeth insists in equal measure that she is old enough to make it back on her own. Neither of them wants to see the other fail at navigating the train system, so Eleanor reluctantly agrees to let Elizabeth go out on her own.

As soon as she is out of sight of the house she teleports away to the emotional security of her room in the Lutece flat, where she can process her startling premonition. Eleanor, having followed her unseen to make sure she got home okay, witnesses the teleportation, and quickly teleports herself back to her office and shakily pours herself another glass of whisky. The Lutece twins, having witnessed the whole thing from atop a windmill half a mile away, look to one another, raise a single eyebrow, and then teleport back to their flat and commence an engaging game of jenga.


	2. Chapter 2

Eleanor sips her whisky, watching her levitating device but not paying any real attention to it. Seeing Elizabeth disappear into thin air prompted a visceral reaction, a kind of mental flinch that kick-started her powers. She had always kept a fondness for teleportation, but her other abilities had atrophied from misuse. But now…The power was always there; tingling now as erratically in her fingertips as it always had in her synapses.

She conjures a fireball in her hand. Molecules quicken into a frenzy until they ignite inside her veins, making them glow a bright orange. The fireball itself appears easily enough; a beating core that is equal parts fire and Adam. Her body, it seems, never stopped producing the stuff.

She closes her fist and the fire disappears. She snaps her fingers and the fireplace, at the edge of the room, long neglected under a pile of discarded notes, ignites. She watches the flames dance to the tune of her will. In them she can see the explosions that decimated Persephone. She remembers watching through her father's eyes as he rampaged through Rapture, bent on her rescue.

Father…

His death granted her and her sisters' freedom from that wretched place. Even Sophia came along, an unwilling participant in her own eventual redemption. They had escaped Rapture.

But Rapture, it seems, had not forgotten them.

Sexuality wasn't something Elizabeth thought about very often.

Lesbianism was something she thought about once in a blue moon.

Kissing her boss; she had never thought of that. Never.

Now it's all she thinks about. And with that she starts thinking about lesbianism, and then sexuality in general. A flood of thoughts she had never occasioned to think before blink into existence within the cavernous realm of her conscious, and all of them have to do with sex.

Many of them have to do with sex with women.

And many still have to do with sex with her teacher.

Elizabeth screams into her pillow.

Meanwhile downstairs Robert and Rosalind pretend not to hear as they delicately remove bricks from a small wooden tower.

"Now I know that one of us is cheating"

"How so?"

"Well for one, some of the bricks are floating in mid-air"

"Hmm. Point"

Elizabeth comes down the stairs, throws herself onto the couch between them and turns on the TV. With nothing of substance on the first channel, she proceeds to flip through them until Rosalind stays her hand.

"Keep it there. Game of Thrones is on"

Total silence is demanded when any of them are watching their programs, which is why Robert stops time to talk to Elizabeth without bothering his sister.

"Is there anything you would like to talk about?"

"No"

"Ah, my mistake then. I had thought I had finally gotten to a point where I could predict your foul moods"

Elizabeth fixes him with a cool stare, which eventually dwindles into something warmer. "How do you always do that?"

"Just because I don't spend a lot of time with people doesn't mean I don't understand them. As for you, well, I like to think I understand you fairly well by now. Family and all that"

"Well I don't want to talk about it"

"Fair enough." He lapses into a silence that clearly implicates that he knows she wants to talk about it, and that he will remain smugly mute on the matter until she fesses up.

"Ugggghhhh. Fine. But it's really complicated"

"No need to save face. It's more than likely that I already know what it is"

"I don't intrude on _your_ privacy. Is it too much for you to do the same?" Then she remembers who she's talking to. "Of course not. I'm assuming you what I saw in the tear"

"Of course"

"Do you know what I saw?"

"I have…some idea, yes"

She looks at him suspiciously. "Then why don't you tell me about it?"

"Very well. It has something to do with your potential sexual interest with Eleanor Lamb-"

Elizabeth shushes him thrice in rapid succession. "Okay, jeez, I get it. You're in the know." He ensuing sigh is exasperation incarnate. "Hold on, this is going to b really awkward. We need ice cream for this"

Time resumes and Robert goes to get it. He's a sweetheart like that.

"Talk about anything interesting?" asks Rosalind, a commercial break having broken her fixation on the TV screen.

"Just relationship stuff. Girl troubles"

"Wait wha-?" Time freezes again as Robert returns with some ice cream, leaving Rosalind suspended with a comical expression of incredulity.

"She hates it when we do that you know"

"She'll find her way in after a while, she always does. Now, tell me about your problems. Talk to Uncle Robert"

"You can be so creepy sometimes"

There it is. The psychiatrist face again. He almost comes across as smug when he does that.

"Robert?"

"Hm?"

"Why do I never see you with women?"

The makes him pause. "What?"

"Well it's just, I get that you and Rosalind have this special bond and so you spend all your time together, but seeing as how you're actually genderbent versions of each other, you probably aren't…_that way_, are you?"

To this Robert is silent, then he sort of sputters for a while, thrown despite all his intellectual faculties. Elizabeth goes on.

"I know you share a room, but you have separate beds, so…I mean I'm not judging if your relationship is…like that. It'd be kind of like masturbation really, and kinda narcissistic, but who am I to judge?"

Robert's sputtering grows more erratic.

"It's just I can never tell with you two, which is why my current problem might not be something you can help with.

The time bubble cracks as Rosalind forces her way into it. Her face divides into fifteen different expressions with the distortion, and for all of two seconds her nose starts bleeding. A second later, she's fine. Stopping time means suspending the universe in a bubble, forcing one's way into that bubble is inadvisable, not that Rosalind cares.

"What are we talking about?" Her tone is as stilted as ever. So is her expression. But it falters in the face of Robert's sputtering. "What's wrong with him?"

"I think broke him," Elizabeth says, a small laugh escaping in the same breath.

Rosalind takes a moment to think about that. "I'll just gloss over that then. To avoid the same pitfall, I propose you skip the dawdling and just tell me what's on your mind"

"You sure you don't want me to ask you the same questions? It would make for some fun introspection"

"As funny as I find my brother right now, I don't relish the thought of existentialist malarkey stuck in my head like a bad song. You're deflecting." A sliver of concern finds its way into her voice, "Talk to me"

Elizabeth is silent for a long time. Or, at least, is silent for an approximation of the passage time, because time isn't really passing. "It's about what I saw in the tear"

"Ah"

"I saw myself"

"What did you see yourself doing?"

"I was kissing someone. A woman"

…

…

"Oh"

"Yes. "Oh," Just about covers it"

"Do you know this woman?"

"Yes"

"Someone from school?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. Stop trying to figure out who it is"

"Are you attracted to this person?"

"I'm not sure…I've never thought of her that way before. I've never thought about anyone that way before"

Rosalind sighs. "Truly the downside of virtual omniscience: you never take the time to think about your love life"

"That is the crux of being able to know everything, and yet denying oneself the privilege," says Robert, apparently having gotten over his sputtering. If he is still thinking about what Elizabeth had insinuated about him and his sister, he gives no indication.

"I was being sarcastic, Robert"

"That doesn't make the observation any less poignant"

"We're not gods," interjects Elizabeth, "Not really. Just beings whose atoms live on an extradimensonal level. We don't even really know what we are, let alone what we're supposed to be like"

That quiets them, and time resumes. The television starts playing again. The three of them are left to ponder the conversation. Elizabeth, for her part, rationalizes like she has never done before. Whatever she had seen her alternate self do isn't a reflection on her current self's desires. What she had seen was too far divorced from her self-image for her to take seriously. But the image was so vivid, so real, that she is disquieted nonetheless.

And from disquiet is born determination. She isn't going to let her abilities tell her who she is.

Her future course of action decided, she gets up and makes for her room.

"Elizabeth, before you leave"

"There's something you should know"

"Something we saw after you left the Lamb mansion"

She stops in mid-climb. "What?"

* * *

Eleanor isn't sure what Elizabeth is, but she's certain that she isn't a big sister. She isn't very physically strong, and she exhibits none of the pallid skin conditions most big sisters are cursed with. She could be a Utopian like Eleanor, but then there would be some indication of her heavy levels of Adam. It makes Eleanor doubt that Elizabeth came from Rapture at all which, given the evidence, makes the most sense.

But then where does she come from, and how is it that she can teleport?

When presented with a shortage of data, the best thing to do is look for more.

The next day she greets Elizabeth with a cordial "Good morning," as she walks into her office. The girl manages a stiff reciprocation before returning to her book. There is already a coffee waiting on Eleanor's desk. "Are you feeling any better?" Asks Eleanor.

"Huh?"

"When you left my house the other day you said you were a little dizzy"

"Oh, right. Yeah, I'm fine now"

"I'm glad to hear it. That was reckless of you, leaving like that when you were feeling down. You could have taken a nap in the guest room"

Elizabeth looks at her funnily, before returning to her book. Her twitchy movements betray her discomfort. Interesting. "It really wasn't that bad," She mumbles.

"Even so, I worry"

Strangely that seems to make Elizabeth even more uncomfortable. "I'll be more careful in the future," she says evenly.

"Good," Says Eleanor with finality. "I'm glad we got that settled. Now, concerning my schedule for today-"

"Right," Says Elizabeth more comfortable with a more formal topic, "you have a class at one-"

"I cancelled all my classes today," interrupts Eleanor, casually making sure not to look up from her papers.

Elizabeth looks at her, startled. "You did? Why?"

"There are more important things on my mind right now. We'll be eating at Bongo Sylhet for lunch"

Bongo Sylhet is a curry place not far from the university. The food isn't really to Elizabeth's liking, but she appreciates how the atmosphere lets Eleanor work. Eleanor is a regular, and is famous there for ordering inordinately large quantities of food at a time. She is so famous in fact that they keep a small room at the back reserved just for her, so that she can work and eat in peace, as is her habit. Elizabeth ahs long suspected that half of why they do this is out of deference to a loyal customer, the other half is so that the other customers do not have to watch Eleanor absentmindedly shoveling large spoon-fulls into her maw.

Come lunch time they walk to the restaurant and are immediately ushered into their private room. It would be an otherwise unremarkable occurrence were it not for the fact that Eleanor only brought one of her bags with her to the restaurant, as opposed to the usual four. When they settle onto the table, one across from the other, Eleanor pulls out a tablet and wordlessly gets to work.

Elizabeth watches her, peering covertly over her book every now and then when she thinks Eleanor isn't looking. Eleanor has always been a strange person. She defies convention with her eccentric study habits, and her tendency to walk around with several bags at a time belies an unusually tremendous strength. Her muscles stand out against her sweater, and Elizabeth catches herself admiring the silhouette of Eleanor's body against the fabric

She shakes her head as if to rid herself of the thought. Then, thinking better of it, she looks again, more cautiously this time. Where did these thoughts come from? Not from the tear alone, surely. Her expression unconsciously softens as she looks upon Eleanor's serious face.

And then Eleanor looks up at her.

"What?" Asks Elizabeth, smiling to mask her unease

Eleanor smiles disarmingly right back at her. "You're staring"

Elizabeth stutters out an apology and looks away.

"It's okay," Eleanor says, assuming a haughty tone, "It's understandable, I would stare at me too, if I could"

Elizabeth flushes, but the joke does wonders to set her at ease. "Don't get full of yourself"

Eleanor puts away her tablet when the food arrives. They talk, which is an unusual change of pace from Eleanor's usual habit of working through every meal. Elizabeth remarks as much, and Eleanor points out that it wouldn't hurt for them to get to know each other a little better.

"Seriously? We see each other every day"

"Oh come on." Eleanor waves her fork congenially. "We're friends aren't we? We should act like them"

Elizabeth supposes that they are, but doesn't like the way the words make her heart beat a little quicker. "I guess"

"You guess? That's disappointing"

Elizabeth shrugs helplessly.

"Ah well. We'll get there. How're your art classes going?"

It's strange hearing Eleanor resort to small talk. "They're good. I'm focusing on sculpture now. A lot of my work is actually inspired by the equation you and I are working on"

"Really? You'll have to show it to me sometime"

"It's really nothing special"

"On the contrary, your teachers tell me that your pieces are the toast of the department"

Elizabeth raises an eyebrow. "You've been talking to my teachers?"

"Oh yes. It's terribly difficult coming up with things to talk about during faculty meetings. Painfully awkward really. So when we find common ground, we capitalize"

"And I am your common ground?"

"Oh absolutely. Professor Slater can't shut up about you"

"I'm…glad, I guess"

"So are you planning to pursue a career in art when you graduate?"

Elizabeth looks at her strangely. "Why the sudden interest? You've never asked me about this stuff before"

"I'm just curious. I realized the other day that I really don't know all that much about you"

Elzabeth's mind races. Eleanor's sudden curiosity is off-putting, especially in light of recent events. Their relationship had been professional from the outset, though lately the line between friend and colleague has been blurring significantly. It certainly doesn't help that Eleanor keeps saying they're "friends," and it helps even less that Elizabeth doesn't disagree.

Elizabeth hesitates, nervously brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'm not really planning to be an artist. I'm just studying art because it interests me right now"

"But what about after university?"

"I haven't planned that far ahead. I don't need to"

"Why?"

_Because I have mastery over fabric of reality!_ "Uh, can we talk about something else?"

"Have I made you uncomfortable? I apologize." Eleanor's voice lowers in concern, and despite herself Elizabeth feels a sting of guilt.

"It's fine. I…I just…"

"Feeling dizzy again?"

Eleanor stares right at her, devoid of friendliness or sympathy. It's an accusation really. She says one thing, but means another; namely, "I know you lied to me yesterday." It's like staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Yeah," Says Elizabeth, managing to inject an equal measure o vitriol in her voice. "Something like that"

They suffer a few minutes of cold silence until Eleanor begins the small talk again. Even then, the rest of the meal is uncomfortable for them both.

* * *

Lunch was a calculated risk, though Eleanor feels she mishandled the situation towards the end.

Elizabeth is definitely hiding something, but maybe not what Eleanor originally suspected. She kept looking over and then looking away just as quickly. Shyness? Eleanor isn't sure what that means. She's used to people acting strangely around her (or at least reacting normally to her strangeness) but Elizabeth is a special, if not confusing, case. Her oddly dodgy behavior is unsettling, if only because Eleanor can't figure out what's wrong. For heavens' sake the girl actually flinches when Eleanor touches her.

A week later, when Elizabeth tells her that she wants to resign her assistantship, Eleanor is all the more confused.

She squints at the girl, as if trying to rationalize her own bewilderment. "You're quitting?" She asks.

Elizabeth averts her eyes. She had been doing that a lot lately. "Yes"

"Why?"

"It's personal"

"Is it something I did?"

"No. Not exactly. It's complicated"

Eleanor scrutinizes her. "Does it have anything to do with your ability to teleport?"

Elizabeth looks at her sharply. She casts a rueful smile. "No, not really"

Eleanor had been expecting a denial, some form of protest. Elizabeth's resigned affirmative feels cheap, too confident in its admission.

"Just as it has nothing to do with the fact that you can teleport as well"

Eleanor supposes she ought to be surprised, but Elizabeth has always been more than she's seemed. A cold calm settles on her as she fixes the younger woman with her utmost deadpan. "How do you know that?"

One side of Elizabeth's lips twitches upward. "You should be more careful, even in a place as remote as your house. You never know who could be watching"

Eleanor slumps into her seat, thrown, but not enough to her forget her caution. "Who are you?" She asks. Her pulse thumps rhythmically in her eardrums.

Elizabeth smiles reassuringly, and Eleanor realizes with a start that she is being pitied. "I'm not sure myself. But whatever I am, I think that it's best for the both of us if we part ways"

For Eleanor fear gives way to fascination. "Elizabeth wait," she reaches to catch Elizabeth's wrist. "Come on, talk to me. We're friends aren't we?" Here are those words again, spoken too easily to. "What's bothering you?" Elizabeth looks like she's about to say something, but she hesitates, and then her eyes grow wide.

"Eleanor, you nose is bleeding"

Eleanor's head buzzes with static. Lights dance in front of her eyes before settling on the image of Elizabeth looking at her worriedly. No, not worried. She's clearly afraid. Eleanor touches her finger to the feeling of warm wetness under her nostrils. A smear of blood comes away at the motion. She looks at it disbelievingly, and then looks to Elizabeth for some explanation.

None is forthcoming. Elizabeth is already gone, disappeared into the dust of Eleanor's office.

* * *

As far as Elizabeth's plans go, this one wasn't very well-thought-out. After all, the campus may be large, but she and Eleanor were bound to see each other every now and then. Her school life is punctuated with instances of Eleanor spotting her in a crowd and giving her questioning looks. Elizabeth ignores her for the most part, except for on a few occasions where exchanging a word or two is unavoidable. But even then she is cold, distant.

Much to Elizabeth's dismay the student body takes notice. For such a large campus she wouldn't have thought her personal affairs would be of such interest to so many people, but apparently Eleanor is a popular enough professor to capture their collective imagination. Rumors abound as to their new dynamic: Why is that art student so cold towards Professor Lamb? Why is Professor Lamb so interested in her? What on earth could have happened between them? Creative differences? Employer/employee incompatibility?

Lovers quarrel?

Naturally this last one is the most popular, and the one that bothers her the most. Ironically the measures she put in place to make sure she no longer thought of such things concerning Professor Lamb only serves to make her think them that much more. It doesn't help that her friends keep asking her about whether or not there is any truth to the rumors, and they soon learn not to broach the subject lest they incur her wrath, and her wrath is considerable.

Considerable enough to garner the attention of her guardians, though they decide not to do anything about it. They have several reasons for this, not least of which is that the Luteces are not emotionally equipped to give advice concerning anyone's love life. By now they had also learned that Elizabeth does not like it when they meddle (and they meddle often), and so keep their distance like parents daring each other to make the first move. The key is to wait for Elizabeth to come to them with her problems first; a sort of go-ahead that they had learned to recognize, though are often surprised by, as Robert had discovered the other day when she asked him why she never saw him with women. It is much nicer when Elizabeth goes to them first anyway; it makes them feel needed.

Not that she seems inclined to do that anytime soon. She is becoming moody, reclusive. She still spends time with her friends, but is always aloof. Thankfully they are a good enough group to take it as a sign to give her some space, though they whisper of their concern behind her back.

Things go on like this for a while. Semester classes peter off in anticipation of exams. Many students leave for pseudo vacations while they still have the time, but Elizabeth opts to stay in the. With time her mood improves, but she's still distant.

And then she starts having the dreams. At first they are simply replays of her vision: she's in the room, dressed nicely, and Eleanor enters, also dressed nicely. They share meaningful glances, stepping closer and closer to each other like bashful lambs until Elizabeth finally stands on her tip-toes and initiates the first kiss. Eleanor is always surprised, but quickly takes control of the situation, pushing them up against a table.

This is where the vision ended, but her imagination takes over. Sometimes she dreams that they are transported to a bed, and they do…things. She isn't sure how two women have sex, but is aware that they can and do. To distance herself from the possibility she refrains from educating herself on the matter. The mechanics of it don't seem that difficult to figure out anyway.

Other times she dreams that they remain in the room, and Eleanor passionately throws everything off the desk so that Elizabeth can lie on it, ready for Eleanor to slowly peel her out of the dress…

No matter the version, she always wakes up in a huff, beads of sweat rolling off of her forehead, heart pumping. She finds solace in routine; showering, brushing her teeth, teleporting to school (or if she's in the right mood, she takes the tube), going to class, hanging out with friends, maybe going to a pub at the end of the day. Seeing Eleanor is never in her schedule, but it happens anyway, and often. Suspiciously often. The rumors perpetuate from there.

It doesn't bother Elizabeth that people are having strange thoughts about her. She could care less what other people think. But that they make it so it's impossible to stop thinking about Eleanor at all…well, that's infuriating.

This is why Elizabeth is hardly surprised when Eleanor quite suddenly and without warning teleports into her room. She stares at the pulsating ball of purple light until it coalesces into the form of Eleanor Lamb,

"I could have been undressed you know"

"I asked Rosalind and she said you weren't"

"That meddler"

Eleanor chuckles. "What's family for? They were utterly unfazed when I teleported into the kitchen"

"Why are you here Eleanor? I distinctly remember telling you not to talk to me again"

The professor leans smugly back into the chair. "Hey look at that. _You're_ talking to _me_ again, and calling me by name to boot"

"Now who's being juvenile?"

"Are you referring to that conversation we had when you slapped me with that ridiculous resignation? I've decided to ignore that"

"Tell me what you're doing here or I'll remove you myself." She makes sure that no quaver is in her voice, and she lifts her chin defiantly.

Eleanor stills, assuming an almost conciliatory tone. "Why are you trying to provoke me?"

"Huh?"

"You keep giving me these ultimatums. "Never talk to me again," "explain yourself or I'll remove you." Do you think I'm going to attack you or something? Get all mad and defensive? It sounds like that's what you want" She spreads her arms, posturing vulnerability. "I'm not here to do anything but talk"

Elizabeth hates it when she is clearly the least mature person in the room. With this in mind, Elizabeth narrows her eyes and puts away her book.

"That's better"

"Just say your piece"

"I don't know why you have to be angry at me. I didn't even really do anything"

Elizabeth forces herself to be calm; to empathize. "I understand where you're coming from. I do. But if you knew what I knew-"

"There you go again! Being cryptic only makes me more curious"

"Believe me, you don't want to know"

"Put yourself in my shoes! I discover someone with abilities like mine and her first instinct is to run away from me? How can I not be curious? How can I not be fascinated?"

"I don't care how fascinated you are! What I know…what I've seen; it's too much for you to handle"

"You don't know that for sure. Come on, talk to me. Help me understand"

Elizabeth calms herself down. She recognizes the look on Eleanor's face. It's the one she assumes when she's at the cusp of a breakthrough in her research. Having that look turned on her is…disarming.

"It's something I…saw." Manages Elizabeth. "The reason I left. It's because of something I saw in another universe"

Eleanor seems skeptical. "You can see other universes?" Teleporting is one thing, glimpsing different points in reality is quite another.

"Yes. Possibilities of the future, present and past. Different versions of the world as we know it"

"How does your power work? Is this proof of the many universes theory? Wave function collapse?"

Elizabeth shakes her head. "I…don't know how it works exactly. All I know is that I can make a tear into another universe, and if I o choose, I can change the universe I'm already in"

"So what did you see?" Asks Eleanor, "Did I hurt you or something? Are you afraid that will be made reality?"

"No, nothing like that"

"Will one of us get grievously injured?"

"No"

"Will anybody get hurt in any way?"

Elizabeth sighs wearily. "No"

"So if no-one will die, no-one will get hurt, and there is no calamity, then what exactly is the problem?"

Elizabeth narrows her eyes. "I'm not one of your projects, Eleanor. Stop trying to figure me out"

"Who ever said you were? But you are my friend. Or at least I thought you were until a few weeks ago"

"Don't push this, please"

"Why?" Asks Eleanor, voice turning gentle, "What are you so afraid of?"

And just like that Elizabeth turns angry. Eleanor isn't taking her seriously; she doesn't quite believe that she can make tears. Understandable, she supposes, but it seems hypocritical to have persisted to this length only to be dismissive of Elizabeth's claims.

She manipulates the atoms of the chair Eleanor is sitting in, lifting both Eleanor and the chair with startling speed.

The older woman backflips off the chair in surprise, instinctively sending the chair flying telekinetically back towards Eleanor. She immediately regrets it. "Beth!" She teleports and catches the chair before it hits anything. But Elizabeth is nowhere to be found.

Eleanor lets go of the chair, letting it clatter to the floor. The room is deathly silent. "Beth?"

She blinks and falls to her knees, shocked at being teleported seamlessly into her own office.

"This is where I saw it"

Eleanor almost throws up, but fights down the welling in her stomach. She looks up at Elizabeth looking down at her, expressionless. Eleanor blinks and suddenly finds herself sitting quite comfortably on her desk chair, stomach calm. Her hands are steepled beneath her nose. Elizabeth is sitting on the other side of the desk. Had she done all that?

Eleanor gets the feeling that she has underestimated the extent of Elizabeth's capabilities enormously.

She swallows nervously. "What?"

"It's better if I show you. Hold on"

A white line splinters the very air in front of them, rending the fabric of reality with a scream. Seeing is believing, and also quite alarming; Eleanor gapes. "How on earth are you doing this?"

Elizabeth doesn't answer the question. Motioning for Eleanor to keep silent and watch.

In the tear Elizabeth is in her nice dress, in the same room as before. She's watching the painting, though without entering the tear she cannot guess its significance.

"Is that you?"

"Yes"

"I like your dress," Says Eleanor in an attempt to cope with the craziness. "How come I've ever seen you wear it?"

"Quiet"

Eleanor doesn't have to be told twice. In that moment the door in the tear opens, getting alternate-Elizabeth's attention. Alternate-Eleanor walks into the room, a questioning expression on her face. She's wearing a tank-top and slacks, which is strange because it isn't the kind of thing Eleanor usually feels comfortable wearing.

She walks into the room, closing the door behind her. She says something but neither Eleanor nor Elizabeth can make out what she's saying. Alternate-Elizabeth doesn't reply, watching her in that same not-quite-relaxed position, still poised in front of the painting as if it has imparted some profound knowledge. She then rises, moving closer to the new arrival, eyes intent on her face. Eleanor can only imagine how her other self feels with those large eyes fixed on her so intently.

And then alternate-Elizabeth is close enough that the two of them are almost touching. She reaches up, delicately tracing the contours of the taller woman's jaw, before standing on her toes and capturing her lips with an insistence belying her previous reverie.

Eleanor's throat goes dry. She gapes as her other self slowly reacts, bringing her hands over Elizabeth's waist and pulling her closer. She intensifies the kiss, and then goes one farther. She spins them around and pins Elizabeth to the door, planting kisses along Elizabeth's neck until the younger woman gasps with pleasure. Eleanor's hands ghost over the straps of Elizabeth's dress, pushing them off of her shoulders-

"Eep!"

The tear abruptly closes. Elizabeth is blushing heavily.

"S-sorry, I never saw it that far, so…"

Eleanor shakily turns. "That was…"

"Yeah"

"You said this was the another universe?"

"Yes. And a possible future"

" there's no guarantee that it will happen. Like Schrödinger's cat. It's a future that both exists and doesn't exist because it hasn't happened yet"

Elizabeth lets out a mocking snort. "Did you know that in the end Schrödinger didn't even believe his own theory was supportable? But considering the existence of a multiverse, he was, in a way, right"

Eleanor is silent for a time as she digests what she has just seen. She backs away from Elizabeth, knocking over her chair. "Oh my god…o-oh my god! I can't believe…no wonder I make you so uncomfortable." She paces the room. "You must think I'm going to attack you or something. You must think I-"

"Eleanor!"

Eleanor shuts up. Elizabeth glances sheepishly away. "I'm not afraid of what you'll do. I pretty much know everything about you at this point. I know you wouldn't do anything like that. Not without my consent"

"You know everything about me?"

Elizabeth smiles. "Come on. You said it yourself. How could I n_ot_ be curious? If I choose to, I can see everything in your past, present and future. I know about Rapture, about the little sisters, Delta; even your mother"

Eleanor grips Elizabeth's shoulder. "Stop," she breathes, "those are not good memories"

Elizabeth's expression softens. "I'm sorry. It's just…I'm sure you can understand. I had to be sure-"

"What!? That I'm not a rapist?"

"No!" Elizabeth slaps her palm to her forehead. "Jesus Christ, of course not! See?! I knew you would take it badly. This is all very complex stuff! I told you; I know you would never do that." She takes a deep breath. "The problem isn't you. It's me"

Eleanor doesn't respond, which Elizabeth takes as a sign to go on.

"I've been thinking about it ever since I first saw it. When I touched your machine I opened the tear automatically. It was a reaction. But there was intent behind it. I was in your house. I was thinking of you, so I opened a tear that was relevant to you. An alternate universe, a possible future. I don't know what happened in there between then and now for me to...you know, do what you saw. But it was a natural progression, meaning that in that universe it was entirely natural that I grew feelings for you. I can't even imagine how, but it seems like it would be…" she blushes, "nice.

"Do you understand now? A "me" I have no familiarity with, and yet is still a possible version of my current self. How can I react to something like that and not panic?" She shakes her head. "But like I said, just by having seen that future, I have affected the chances of it actually happening. Universes, once bridged, can coalesce very overtly, but subtly as well. So an attraction I might have developed naturally is now developing unnaturally. I have these dreams…urges that hit me as if from nowhere. I never thought about this kind of stuff before; romance or sex or whatever.

Elizabeth covers her face. "But now I do! Constantly! I feel like my feelings from an alternate reality are flooding into my body and I don't know what to do about it. Even now when I look at you I…I…" She stifles her emotions, moving her hands resolutely to her sides. "That's why I looked into your past. It's almost an obsession really, and it's all I can do to keep it at bay. That's why I've been avoiding you! To spare you my craziness! Do you get it now? I did it for you." She looks up at Eleanor, chest heaving. Her eyes are teary. But calm comes eventually, her breathing evens out. The girl is made of stern stuff.

"Okay. Please say something"

Eleanor's eyes are all alarm and wide-eyed confusion. One thinks they have seen everything, and just like that they realize that they ain't seen nothin' yet.

There are so many holes in Eleanor's physics, and yet…looking into the girl's eyes Eleanor can tell that everything she says is the absolute truth. She is pleading for understanding, and Eleanor, for once stumped for the first time in years, has none to give her. Not yet anyway.

In a flash of purple she teleports, and is gone.

* * *

When Elizabeth needs clarity she opens her mind to the entire breadth of existence. Eleanor's avoidance of her presents a dilemma she doesn't know how to deal with, and as such she looks for answers in the next universe over. The issue is how to do this safely.

Elizabeth concentrates hard on a spot in the wall. She has cleared everything else to the side, leaving a large blank swathe of unadorned white paint to dominate one side of her room. On this blank wall she has drawn a single circle with a sharpie marker. It is an inch in diameter, the size of a peep-hole. This will be her window into other universes.

She spends hours looking in the small hole, opening miniature tears within the outline. She isn't sure if she keeps the hole small so that the people on the other side can't see her, or so the universe on the other side doesn't try to come in. Either way, safety first.

She perches on a tall stool, just watching.

She feels like a voyeur. There are countless versions of herself out there, living, loving, idling and working. There are so many, and they're all different, but there is a symmetry to their collective character. They are arrayed across the multiverse like slowly shifting shades of color; an Elizabeth on one end of the spectrum is gruff and volatile, while an Anna on the other side is shy and moody.

None of these Elizabeths provide an answer relevant to her current problem.

After the third day of peeping, a revelation: While there is an infinite number of Elizabeth the person, there is a decidedly finite supply of Elizabeth the omniscient concept. She learns this when she looks into the hole one day and sees one green eye staring back at her.

"Ah!" The green-eyed Elizabeth falls off her chair. "Fuck!"

Another version of herself who can open tears? Or perhaps that and more.

"Hey!' Yells Elizabeth, "don't close the tear yet!" A finger pokes out of the hole, making Elizabeth recoil backwards. "What the hell!?"

"Don't try to find me again!" Yells Green-eyes. "If you do, then we'll merge, and I don't need that twice in a row"

"Huh?"

"Just trust me!" And just like that the other tear closes from the other side.

"Hold on! Wait a second!" But there is no response forthcoming. "I need to talk to you about something"

Silence.

More silence.

And then another small tear opens further down the wall. "You already know what you want!" Yells Green-eyes, "So stop looking for answers in alternate universes! It's not healthy!" And the tear closes once again.

"You don't even know what I was going to ask you," mumbles Elizabeth.

The tear re-opens. "Yes I do." And then it closes again.

Well that settles that. Doesn't it? No, not really. All Elizabeth knows for sure, and she vocalizes this thought a second later, is that her alternate green-eyed self is an asshole

"No I'm not"

* * *

Eleanor Lamb is a creature of intense focus; a charismatic woman with a predilection for knowing the unknowable. She is smart, she is beautiful, and she is completely unconcerned with matters of love.

Up until now she was convinced that she was asexual.

Maybe she _is_ asexual. But Elizabeth said that universes coalesce in subtle ways. Maybe the future she glimpsed wasn't only a possible future, but a universe where she had a sexual appetite? The difference between universes would have resolved itself by imprinting the attributes of the alternate Eleanor on the current one.

Or maybe she was a latent lesbian all along? Physics, even to a physicist, are a nebulous mistress.

Either way, there is now a fluttering feeling in her stomach, in her lungs, her heart; permeating her body until she feels like she could die of embarrassment and exult in pleasure at the same time. It is an utterly alien feeling, and she does not know how to handle it. All she knows is that when she thinks about Elizabeth and her big ocean eyes, her mouth goes dry and her mind goes blank. She gets the urge to touch-

"Eleanor!"

"Gah!"

It is embarrassing when one finds themselves daydreaming in the middle of a conversation, worse still when it is with their inquiring younger sister.

"You drifted off again. You've been doing that a lot"

"Sorry. There's a lot on my mind"

"Tell me"

Nadia is hardly the person to talk to about sudden crises of sexuality.

"No"

"Why not?"

"Because you aren't old enough"

"Is it something to do about Rapture? Did you kill someone?"

"No"

"Is it about drugs?"

"No!"

"Oh." She lowers her voice conspiratorially, "Sex?"

"Nadia!"

"Oh…so it _is_ about sex"

"For heavens' sake, drop it. You're like sixteen"

"Actually I'm nineteen. How do you not know that?"

Like most people who find themselves losing a conversation to a younger person, Eleanor sullenly backpedals. "Look, I'm just been distracted lately"

"With what?"

Eleanor grits her teeth. Nadia wasn't supposed to ask that. Inner turmoil is bad enough without your little sister trying to drag it out of you. In an uncharacteristic flare of annoyance she yells, "I don't want to talk about it alright!? What are you even doing in here!? Leave me alone!"

Nadia is not impressed, but gets out of the chair anyway. "I'm you sister you know," she says when she gets to the doorway. "That ought to mean something. You raised me, but that doesn't mean I can't give you good advice once in a while"

And so she leaves. Chastised, Eleanor drums her fingers against the table for a while before sighing and teleporting to Nadia's room. When the girl opens her door and spots Eleanor already in on her sofa, she smiles smugly.

When she escaped Rapture with the help of Delta and the little sisters, Eleanor's first point of order (after securing proper lodging and funds) was to return them to their families. This she accomplished, though for seven little girl there were no families to be found. These she adopted as her own little sisters, and she retired to the British countryside to give them a better life.

But little girls do not stay little forever, and before too long Eleanor found herself juggling the needs of seven young pubescent women curious about the world and ready to make it their own. It was tough for a girl barely into adulthood. They watched TV, listened to modern music, and became dependent on smartphones almost overnight. Ironically Eleanor was the one to become the mother hen, and Sophia was the indulgent grandmother. But neither of them had much time for themselves.

It is for this reason that the girls, almost all now matured (though four of them still live in the Lamb Estate) often push for Eleanor to have more of an active social life. Even now she works most every day so that she can support them (and Sophia) if worse comes to worse. They love her for it, but they want her to be happy. For the longest time her response to this demand was that her work made her happy, and providing for her family made her even more so.

But then Elizabeth happened, and it was with much excitement that all of the sisters (with the exception of Marian who was in America and was with them through web chat) gathered in Nadia's room to listen to Eleanor's sudden personal woes.

"This is overkill you guys"

But of course it wasn't. The counsel to help big sister had assembled, and they would not let Eleanor teleport away, no matter how uncomfortable the subject matter. Nadia, the youngest, had taken on the role of spokesperson.

"Something's bugging you. All of us can tell"

There are murmurs of agreement all around.

"So let us help you. At the very least we can act as a sounding board"

"I don't know about this…"

This garners are slew of arguments, even from Marian who has startled her roommates by yelling at her computer.

"Girls, I really appreciate this, but it's embarrassing alright?"

Never having seen Eleanor flustered over something other than themselves, the Lamb sisters are taken aback. They are afraid that they have to insist, but they do so gently, coaxingly. Their sister is one to speak her mind, not her feelings. This is unexplored territory.

Finally, she nods,

But she is silent for a time. They are patient, letting Eleanor fidget while she collects her thoughts. After a good while Eleanor takes a breath, and the sisters unconsciously lean in.

"I…the details are complicated but…put simply, I have developed feelings for someone"

The room erupts into frantic inquiries as to who this someone is.

"You met someone!?"

"Is it a fellow teacher?"

"Do we know him?"

"Eleanor, you saucy minx!" This last statement comes from Laura who is instantly hushed down.

"No, you don't know them. It's a student. It's really complicated and we aren't even talking anymore…"

This too is a juicy revelation, but one that prompts disbelieving silence rather than more noise. A student? Their straight-laced big sister? Realizing that patience is key here, the Lamb sisters wait.

"It's…my assistant," She says, before taking a difficult breath. "A girl"

At first there is stupefied silence. And then the room explodes in questions. Having met Elizabeth, Nadia launches her own frenzied inquiries while a few other sisters ask her what she was like. A few sisters look to Jane, who is a lesbian, and ask her if she ever suspected, to which she pointedly says "no." Sophia, having come across the room just as Eleanor confessed her secret, rolls her eyes and walks in anyway, curious despite herself.

And Eleanor, overwhelmed by the waves of curiosity and support being leveled at her, hangs her head in resignation.

* * *

It is all Elizabeth can do to keep other universes from collapsing into her current one.

She isn't entirely sure what she is, because she really ought to not exist at all. Her memories are testament to her anomaly, and as much as a mystery she is to herself, she is all the more confounding to reality itself. Sometimes she dreams about alternate realities; they converge upon her like cars crossing a trans-universal intersection. She is the very middle of multi-faceted vin-diagram; a hub through which the boundaries of one world and the next blur enough to manifest as something else entirely.

Sometimes she daydreams, and the universe shifts to suit her. She's learned her lesson though, and brutally molds the universe back into its former shape. It is much easier than such a feat ought to be. Is she consuming vast quantities of energy to do so? The laws of physics say that she must be. But she feels no change, no drain. Is reality simply conforming to her alternate relativism? If so, what about Robert and Rosalind? Are they the same? Or something completely different?

And why is it that she still has feelings for Eleanor?

The universe does not like its peas mixed with its porridge.

It is difficult to keep track of, but even more so when her friends are of a mind to drag her to a pub. Elizabeth nurses a pint to indulge them, not even sure if she can get drunk in the first place. She suspects that if she wanted to be, she could, but she doesn't, and has never occasioned to try. The pub isn't particularly lively tonight, and Elizabeth has curtailed her friends' plans to go bar-hopping by saying that after they are done with this bar, she will be done for the night.

"Come ooooon Elizabeth," Says Zack, an amiable study-abroad American that has a not-so-secret crush on her. "You never come out with us. It won't hurt to let loose for one night"

Elizabeth smiles, "I am not one to 'let loose', and if I were, I promise that you would not enjoy it." Tornadoes come to mind; underwater cities, mental patients in masks, large bullet-spewing automatons.

Her friends laugh.

"Now I want to see it even more!" says another friend, Sasha, a girl in the art course that has declared herself Elizabeth's big sister in all matters social. She is annoying at times, but endearing in her own way. 'Come on, I'll even cover the cost"

"Me too!"

"I'll help out"

"What must a drunk Elizabeth be like? Can anyone imagine it?"

No-one really can.

But it is a generous offer, considering the price of drinks in London.

"Guys, I'm starting to feel some peer pressure here"

Sasha looks around, stoic, until a wide grin breaks across her face. "Absolutely! Please Elizabeth, you're always so prim and proper. It would mean the worrrld to me if you could just once let me see your wild side"

Elizabeth half smiles, giving Sasha an airy sidelong glance. "I'm sorry Sasha, but I just don't feel like doing that." In a casual movement she delicately runs the tip of her finger provocatively up Sasha's throat, coming to a rest at the girl's chin. "Forgive me?"

Sasha shudders. And then looks surprised at having done so.

"Jesus Elizabeth," She says, "you could be in movies"

"That's it! If Elizabeth is staying here then we are too. You can't shake us that easily dear girl"

More people arrive; friends and friendly acquaintances in equal measure. The quiet pub becomes noisy as it hosts a raucous evening for a few dozen college students. Despite being the one in whose honor this whole thing was thrown, Elizabeth makes her way to the sidelines, slipping into a booth and watching with interest as her friends play a dart-turned-drinking game.

"I'm surprised you didn't leave altogether." Zack slips into the booth. "You've always ditched us when we got too rowdy"

"It doesn't help to avoid everything that bothers you. Sometimes you just have to sit and enjoy it"

"Man, you are something else, you know that?"

"So you keep telling me. I hope it's a good thing"

"Yeah, definitely, of course it's a good thing. I mean, I wouldn't insult you"

"Ha! Well I should hope so. I don't think I've done anything worth insulting me over"

"Nah, you couldn't do that. You're too good for that"

Zack leans over, a little hesitant but emboldened by alcohol. He reaches up to swipe a strand of Elizabeth's hair out of her face and over her ear.

"What are you doing?" She asks.

There is a universe in which he kisses her. She accepts the kiss, unsure of what she's doing at first. But Zack is patient, respectful; he doesn't do anything to make her mad or even irritated. It's nice. As soon as he tries to go farther she stops him, and he's okay with that. They share an awkward laugh and Zack asks if he can call her. He already has her number, but the meaning is obvious. She says "Sure, why not?" A month later and they start dating, Zack had been working hard to impress her, and Elizabeth couldn't help but be charmed by that. After a six-month romance he returns to America and they pursue a long-distance relationship-

Zack leans over to kiss her

"What are you doing?" She asks.

That universe ceases to be, or never was, or is probably just a possibility that is no longer possible. The cessation of an entire future disappears in an un-ceremonial "blip."

Zack is stopped by her hand against his chest.

"That's not a good idea, Zack"

He deflates, but smiles in good sport. "Sorry. Didn't mean to make an ass of myself"

"You're good. Just have to read the moment a little better"

"Heh. I thought I was. Trouble is Elizabeth, I can never tell with you"

"I can't be that hard to figure out"

"Actually you are. I thought you were American because of your accent, but you have a British citizenship. I thought you were shy, but you're just mysterious. I thought you were in the art course, but apparently you're a math genius as well?"

Elizabeth laughs. "You can't believe all the rumors you hear"

Zack is silent for a while, smiling as someone falls giggling to the floor. The party continues even as someone helps them up, carrying them to a cab outside. There will be many sore heads in the morning.

"What about the rumor about you and Professor Lamb?"

He glances over. She wears a soft smile, but says nothing.

"Hey!" Yells Sasha from the crowd, a teasing lilt to her voice, "What are you doing over there? Trying to get some private time with Elizabeth, eh Zack?" This elicits some cat-calls from the crowd.

"It's not like that!" yells back Zack, aware of the irony. "Right Eliza-" he stares into empty space. Was she ever there at all? What? Of course, Zack isn't _that_ drunk. "Where'd she go?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Ah, Professor Lamb, what did the vice-chancellor want with you?"

"He wanted to discuss policy regarding teacher-student relations"

Eleanor doesn't comment on the fact that Rosalind is waiting for her in the lecture hall. Nor does she feel the slightest inclination to lie, despite the sensitive nature of the answer to Rosalind's question. Truth be told the vice-chancellor was lecherously supportive of any relationships she may have with female students; their "official" meeting was a full half-hour of innuendos and uncomfortable eyebrow-raising.

"Ah, relevant I suppose, considering the rumors"

"Oh not you too"

"If it concerns Elizabeth then I am likely in the know"

Of course. "Do you never state things outright or must everything you say be some kind of riddle?"

"Must be something in my programming"

"You're joking right?"

Rosalind doesn't answer, perusing Eleanor's white board which is filled with equations. "You made a mistake. Here…and here"

Eleanor rolls her eyes. "I haven't been at my best lately"

"I can tell. No-one as intelligent as you should confuse the derivation of a long-wave equation"

"Thanks, I guess"

"I don't suppose it has anything to do with Elizabeth's recent fixation on you?"

Eleanor almost trips. "What?"

"Ah. I see you know what I'm talking about. She showed you a tear, didn't she?"

Eleanor takes some time to answer. "Yes, she did"

"I gather you reacted poorly. That would explain why hasn't been herself lately"

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't noticed?"

"We…haven't seen much of each other lately"

"Hm. Well. She's been much quieter; more pensive than usual. She hasn't yelled at me for some time, which is very odd indeed"

"You _want_ her to yell at you?"

"Of course not. But she usually does. She's changed. Maturity perhaps? Or something else?"

"I'm not the person to ask"

"Strange, I though you two were…close"

Eleanor cringes, but does not comment. "What she showed me defies everything I know about physics; maybe even everything I know about myself. How am I supposed to take that?"

Rosalind laughs. It sounds forced, though it may just be how the humorless express humor. "You're a physicist, Professor, I'm sure you know that physics are not so flaky. You needn't go through an existential crisis on Elizabeth's account. She wouldn't want you to"

"I know that. But Elizabeth…reality doesn't seem to work the same way for her as it does for us"

"I suppose. Nothing is set in stone. It's simple: until the time comes, you don't know for sure what will happen. Only when we arrive at the present will you know for sure"

"It's always the present"

"So it is." Rosalind looks to be laughing at her own private joke as she makes her way to the exit. "Oh by the way," She asks, "what _is_ the policy for teacher-student relations?"

Eleanor smiles grimly. "Discretion"

"Ha!"

* * *

Elizabeth and Eleanor see one another again, briefly, as they cross paths in the hall. Eleanor is stiff, not at all becoming of someone in her position. Elizabeth is all comfortable airiness. She's wearing a tank-top today. She looks good in it, but it also makes her look not entirely herself; déjà vu, but not quite. She's carrying a sizeable pile of art supplies in her arms, and looks to be having some trouble with it.

Eleanor isn't going to say anything, but realizing how petty that is, offers to help.

"Need some help with that?"

It's a concession both to herself and to Elizabeth, who looks pleasantly surprised. "I wouldn't turn it down, but it looks like you have your hands full yourself"

As usual Eleanor is carrying several hundred pounds' worth of bags and equipment. She smiles, "This is nothing," and retrieves a stack of sketchbooks from Elizabeth's arms.

"It's easy to forget just how strong you are"

The familiarity of Elizabeth's comment tingles between them like the buzz of an unexpected kiss. Eleanor clears her throat to clear away her uncertainty. "Where are you headed?"

"Art department"

"I can make that"

They don't talk, but fall easily into their old walking pattern; side by side, even pace, like two kids hesitant to touch each other at a middle school dance. Eleanor almost feels like dictating notes for Elizabeth to take down. Has it really been so long since they saw each other like this every day?

Before long they make it to Elizabeth's art room. They enter and Eleanor indicates an empty space in one of the corners of the room.

"Is there good?"

"Yeah. That should be fine"

Elizabeth sets down the sketchbooks. "Why don't you just teleport this stuff?"

Elizabeth smiles. "Because that would be cheating"

"Cheating?" Eleanor's laugh is only somewhat mocking. "Seriously?"

Elizabeth takes the incredulity with grace, ignoring it altogether.

"Thanks for helping me out," She says, fixing Eleanor with a stare so heartfelt that it's hard to look at.

Eleanor gets up, wiping her hands and hiking her own bags further up her arms. She is only vaguely aware that she is feigning nonchalance, and badly at that. "It was fine"

"Are you busy right now?"

Eleanor hesitates. "I have to teach in about an hour, but-"

"That's plenty of time. Let's get lunch"

"Lunch. Now? With...you?"

"Yeah. Like we used to. Come on"

In retrospect it isn't a spectacular idea, but saying no to Elizabeth is a difficult task, even if the lunch is certain to be awkward.

In the cafeteria Elizabeth is all smiles, but Eleanor feels self-conscious as people keep looking over at them in curiosity. She can hear them whispering. More sordid rumors no doubt. The way Elizabeth keeps looking at her fondly does not help.

"This is where we met, remember?"

So it is. Eleanor hadn't realized. "You seated us here intentionally"

"Yes"

"You look pleased with yourself"

"I am"

They sit in silence for a bit. The cafeteria clatters numbly in the background.

"You've been avoiding me"

Eleanor almost drops her fork. It's true. She feels like she's been caught doing something wrong. She hasn't felt this way since she was a child in Rapture. At least now she can handle it like an adult.

"Sorry about that"

"It's okay. I started avoiding you first so it balances out"

Eleanor chuckles. "I'm glad you see it that way. Um," She searches for words of justification, but finds none.

Elizabeth meets her gaze understandingly. "It's okay. You don't have to explain yourself to me"

Eleanor nods gratefully. "It's just that this is such an awkward subject"

"I know"

"How on earth did you deal with it? I don't- I've never even thought about this stuff before now"

"Neither have I, to be honest"

" But you seem so…confident about all this"

Elizabeth shrugs. "It's a lot to process, I agree. But if you can figure out what it is you want, then it's easy"

Eleanor's brow scrunches in confusion. "I don't understand"

"I've thought about it, and to be honest I'm interested"

"In what?"

"Pursuing a relationship with you"

"What!?" After the tight, instinctual response, Eleanor lowers her voice and leans in. "_Why_?"

"Because…I don't know. You're really cool, beautiful, brilliant…" As she speaks Eleanor urgently attempts to subtly gesture for Elizabeth to lower her voice, to no avail. "…You're really weird, but it's actually pretty charming. You love your family, you have superpowers…what else is there?"

"Okay, okay. I get it. Please lower your voice"

Elizabeth shoots her a pointed stare. "I want you," She says, confident in the steel in her voice. Eleanor certainly looks suitably taken aback. The older woman suddenly looks very self-conscious, and directs her eyes to the ground.

So Elizabeth wants her. Like _that_. It's a cloying revelation. A little flattering really, from someone so young and attractive, but still…

"I...um, please excuse me"

Eleanor climbs to her feet. The world is suddenly hazy and indephinable. Theories lead a nebulous existence, but reality is stark cold and solid. The reality is that Elizabeth desires her. _I want you._

Eleanor makes a hasty escape, stepping backward over the chair and making a brisk walk for the exits. She makes several strides before she realizes that she has forgotten her bags. Elizabeth watches her with interest as she doubles back to collect her things. Eleanor averts her eyes, embarrassed, and blushing.

* * *

Her office is dark. After haphazardly dumping all her bags onto the floor, she flips the switch with her mind. The room illuminated, she takes a seat on her armchair. It swivels uncertainly, the gear below having become loose over years of neglect. Eleanor fixes it now by feeling the contours of the mechanism and tightening the appropriate screws. The chair turns fine now.

Usually she is too full of ideas to care, but right now she can't think straight.

Today she spent a full two hours at her favorite curry place, staring at a black sheet of notebook paper. Her pen spent the entire time idle, spinning in between her fingers as she tried to summon some semblance of a theoretical thought. None came. It was as if the well from which her inspiration usually sprouted had been blocked by a heavy stone, and nothing she tried was able to dislodge it.

She had put away her notebook, resigned. Her usual mountain of food was suddenly unappetizing as she stared at it. She couldn't remember the last time she just…ate without doing something else. She was unusual in this regard, she knows that. Elizabeth had pointed this out a little while ago. At the time Eleanor had laughed as well, but now all she can do is sit in creative impotence.

It's not like she doesn't realize the cause of her distraction: Elizabeth. Elizabeth, Elizabeth, Elizabeth.

She can't help thinking about her even when she doesn't want to.

A relationship. The prospect scares her. She fears that level of closeness and commitment the way shy people are afraid of speaking on the phone. It's irrational, but it's there. But part of her wonders what it would be like. Would Elizabeth be a kind girlfriend? A gentle lover? The fear remains, but beyond it? Romance is, well, romanticized in this modern society, too much so, Eleanor has always believed. But surely it isn't all clichés and tropes. Is it?

She said it herself: "Love is just a chemical, we are the ones who give it meaning." Could she find meaning in Elizabeth?

To her surprise the desk is clean. Immaculate really, with papers and notes stacked in recognizable order. The pens are put away in their can. Books that used to be stacked by the dozen are now neatly shelved, marked by cut post-it notes sticking out of their tops. Elizabeth used to do that, and apparently still does. She's been here recently. It's a little scary that Elizabeth can fiddle with time and space whenever she wants to.

In the middle of the desk is an artful-looking leaflet, plastic print, with an image of a painting embossed at the top. Eleanor's heartbeat quickens; it's the same painting she saw when Elizabeth showed her the tear. She reads the text beneath, once, and then twice. Three times to be sure.

"Art Showing at Cairn Gallery," Followed by the date and opening times.

"Subtle," mutters Eleanor, regarding the leaflet in her hand. She flaps it in the air as if doing so will reveal any clues as to what Elizabeth has in store for her. None are forthcoming.

* * *

"I half expected you to be wearing a dress"

"I half expected you not to come"

The room with the painting is a perfect recreation of the one in the tear. It, for all intents and purposes, _is_ that very same room. Elizabeth was waiting for her inside, but she wasn't wearing the dress from the tear. Instead she's wearing her usual quasi-formalwear; pressed and comfortable whites and blues. Even in the somewhat dim lighting her clothes seem to glow a deep hue. The blues of her irises are the same, and having them trained on her makes Eleanor's breathing shallow.

Elizabeth notices Eleanor's attention to her clothes. She smiles. "Surprised? I changed it up a bit. I thought if you saw me in the dress you would freak out"

"I'm not so sure I'm not freaking out anyway"

"I actually saw it you know. That dress. It was on a mannequin in a Primarch window and I just had to have it. It's hanging in my closet right now." Eleanor doesn't respond. She's clearly nervous, a vulnerability that Elizabeth finds endearing. Perhaps it's strange of Elizabeth to think so, but the appeal is even greater because Eleanor is older.

"Did you know I would be here tonight?"

"No. I want you to trust me, so I haven't been peeping into possible futures, or in your past for that matter, not like I did before. I actually planned to come here every night while the gallery was open until you finally showed up. Though granted, I expected this night to be the one most likely for you to make an appearance, and, well, here you are"

Eleanor lifts her hands. "Here I am"

"Mm. I'm a little nervous"

"I'm a bit shaky myself"

"We didn't talk this much in the tear. We just went right to the kissing. Is that why you showed up tonight? So you could kiss me?"

Eleanor wants to say no. She wants to tell Elizabeth to get real. It's what she came to do. But all of a sudden she's tongue-tied. "I don't know," She admits.

"Well I really want to kiss you. Sorry, if I'm coming across as forward. Horny young person and all that"

"You sure know how to charm a girl"

"You think so? I'm just winging it here"

"So am I"

Elizabeth sighs, turning her attention to the painting. Eleanor hesitantly joins her. Her left arm seems to tingle just from being the one closer to Elizabeth; she becomes even more nervous, without even being all that sure as to why. She came tonight to turn Elizabeth down, but now…now she isn't sure what she wants.

"Do you like it?"

"Huh?"

"The painting"

Eleanor laughs, comforted by the small talk. "Not at all. It's kind of disorienting actually"

Elizabeth pouts, setting Eleanor further at ease. It's the little things that remind her of their age difference.

"I think it's pretty good"

"I don't even know what it's supposed to be"

"Its art you philistine. You're supposed to interpret"

'This is art? A three year-old could do this"

"Lots of people say that, but there's actually a lot more skill involved"

"Still looks kind of silly"

"Doesn't it make you feel anything?

Eleanor doesn't respond, not quite so nervous anymore. They stand in silence for a time, watching the painting. No-one walks in on them. Indeed, with Elizabeth's powers, Eleanor wonders if anyone even could. Is time stopped somehow? Are they in some privacy pocket dimension? But mostly Eleanor wonders when Elizabeth will make her move. She wonders what she will do when the time comes. She grows tense, her shoulders stiffening by the second.

Fingers graze against her own. Eleanor doesn't move, highly aware of Elizabeth's hand slowly maneuvering itself into her grasp. Fingers thread sinuously along her palm, and into the gaps between her own. The hold is soft, limp, but piled full of intent. This is Elizabeth taking it slow; this is Elizabeth saying, "Ready or not here I come."

Eleanor's hand snatches away. She's done it before she can realize what she's doing.

Elizabeth looks up at her, expressionless, and Eleanor wonders why she did what she just did. She had acted on instinct; some genetic imperative that disdained physical contact. Immediately she wants to try it again, reach for Elizabeth's hand and squeeze it in reassurance, for herself, for Elizabeth, for both of them.

But then Elizabeth is already gone.

* * *

It takes but a moment to catch up. Elizabeth can be anywhere in the world in an instant. She can be in New Zealand if she so desires, or America, or even another universe entirely, another time entirely. Eleanor takes this into account as she teleports outside the gallery.

She isn't god-like like Elizabeth, but her abilities are no small matter. She extends her awareness across the whole of London, million upon millions of telekinetic tendrils ghosting over the whole city. She has never exhausted herself so quickly. The effect lasts only half a second, but it's all she needs to find Elizabeth. She teleports and materializes in the darkened courtyard of the university.

The moon is obscured by clouds, but the light from lamp poles in the distance pervade the area.

"What the hell?" Eleanor asks, struggling to keep her breathing even. Elizabeth is standing there. She seems surprised, but maintains a calm composure.

"What?"

"You just left me there"

"Yeah, so?"

"What?" Asks Eleanor in disbelief. "But-"

"You obviously aren't even sure what you want from me." She turns to look at Eleanor. Her eyes shine blue even in the darkness. "You're obviously uncomfortable. I'm not going to do anything unless you're sure you want it." She begins walking away, towards a row of lampposts. Eleanor follows.

"Wait, are you mad at me?"

"No." Elizabeth eyes are firmly averted.

"You are. Can we please just slow down and talk about this?"

"Look, I'm done embarrassing myself tonight"

She was embarrassed?

"Would you just stop?" Eleanor steps in front of Elizabeth, catching her shoulder with a firm grip. Elizabeth's eyes are wide and defiant. Watchful. Eleanor has to be careful here. She takes a moment to search for the right words. "I'm…sorry for being flaky, but can't you go easy on me? This is all a lot to swallow"

"You've had weeks to think it over"

"I know! I know. I just…" She sighs. "I should be handling this better. Like an adult. But I'm not perfect, and we haven't exactly been communicating lately, which I'll concede is mostly my fault. I'm just not…exactly sure what I want out of this"

"You made that clear already," says Elizabeth testily, trying to get past Eleanor before she is stopped again.

"Hold on. It's like one minute you seem so beyond me, and the next I'm reminded that you're barely into your twenties. Can't you appreciate how difficult this is for me? I never had urges like these until I met you"

"What?"

Eleanor's pulse dances an erratic tune. "I came here to turn you down tonight," She admits, voice low and bashful. "But when I saw you I…just couldn't"

Elizabeth's shoulders visibly relax. She takes a step back in surprise.

Eleanor can almost feel time suspend for the briefest moment as a thousand thoughts flit by Elizabeth's eyes. It's in her expression, that pensiveness, that quality that attracted Eleanor to her in the first place. Is she here now because of some vision of the future, or because of that expression? In another world maybe she fell in love with that expression, in this one she …well; "falling in love" isn't exactly the case, but what she feels for Elizabeth now is a close approximation.

The younger woman hesitantly reaches upwards, her fingertips ghosting close to Eleanor's face, as if asking permission. She nudges closer, but Eleanor doesn't budge, makes no indication of what she wants.

Elizabeth isn't one to stand up on her tip toes, not when she can assert herself by grabbing Eleanor's collar, yanking her down for a kiss.

"Mmpf!"

It happens so fast. It's not exactly tender, and it isn't exactly passionate, but it's insistent. Eleanor is so taken by surprise that she is about to push away until she registers what's going on. She calms. Elizabeth's lips are soft and forceful. They taste vaguely of menthol chapstick. Not the most endearing flavor, but a humanizing surprise. Eleanor tentatively begins to reciprocate, moving her lips in clumsy imitation of the movies she has seen at her sisters' behest. She knows she isn't doing a very good job, but Elizabeth doesn't seem to care, smiling and deepening the kiss.

They carry on like this for a while until Eleanor pulls away.

"Hold on, hold on." She has to push her palms to Elizabeth's shoulders to deter her from advancing again.

"What?" Asks Elizabeth, breathless; impatient but giddy. Giddy at kissing Eleanor. Giddy that Eleanor kissed back. Giddy that Eleanor seems to want this. "Was I okay? I haven't done this before"

"Yeah. You're great." Eleanor realizes that she's a little giddy too. "Just let me breathe a little"

"Oh," Elizabeth laughs, like she got an equation wrong. "Right"

She gives Eleanor time to breathe, before once again leaning in for a kiss. She's so eager that she does stand on her tip-toes this time, but she hesitates before she can lose eye-contact, gravitating at the edge of the boundary between her lips and Eleanor's. Seeking permission again? It does not hurt to indulge her. Not at all. Eleanor leans down, wrapping her arms around Elizabeth's waist. Permission granted.

Elizabeth grips Eleanor's, drawing closer to her warmth, the fog little more than an afterthought. The hesitation to touch, also an afterthought.

* * *

There are a few things going through Eleanor's minds as she gets ready for work the next day. More than a few things in fact, enough things that she forgets to bring half the bags she usually does. Needless to say, it is a preoccupied Eleanor who teleports near a Pret-a-Manger to buy herself breakfast, and it is a preoccupied Eleanor who teleports into her office. She absentmindedly chews at her sandwich, forgetting to get a plate out for it. Crumbs fall on the table as she puts it down.

She kissed Elizabeth.

What now?

She has never been in a "relationship", as the TV shows are so eager to emphasize in suggestive quotations. Such a nebulous term, and yet as an adult she's supposed to know what it means, what it entails. She wants Elizabeth to explain it to her; she seems to have everything in hand anyway. But what fresh indignity would that be? Being teased by her younger sisters is enough. Looking to her younger girlfriend (Lover? Smooch buddy?) for advice in love would be too embarrassing to bear.

What concerns her most is what will happen when she sees Elizabeth again.

They parted amicably, with a kiss even. A kiss with tongue, a make-out session. They had both learned quickly.

"Good night," Was all Elizabeth had said. She was shy then, and Eleanor had been too fixated on how pretty she looked to say anything other than "Good night" in return. Was her prettiness always so distracting?

What do they do today? Do they kiss again? In public? Is Eleanor even ready for that?

There should be a manual for this stuff. Rapture did not provide much of a forum for healthy courtship, and by the time she was of age she was pumped so full of Adam that such things hardly seemed to matter anymore (not that there were many available partners in Rapture. Well there _were_, but they were all, like, insane).

Now…well…

Eleanor touches her lips, remembering the way Elizabeth pressed insistently against them. The younger girl's lips are almost unrealistically smooth. Eleanor's are chapped more often than not, spoiled by constant air-conditioning. That will have to be rectified.

Kissing wasn't anything like she thought it would be, though thinking back on it she wasn't sure what she was expecting. Certainly not locking lips with a student. Certainly not a girl. Definitely not her assistant. Ex-assistant now, she supposes, but even so.

She should feel strange about that. Shame perhaps. Embarrassment. Well, Elizabeth makes her plenty embarrassed, but kissing her hadn't felt wrong. It was pleasant. She wants to do it again. The memory makes her want to hold something. A pillow. Elizabeth.

Sitting still is making her think too much. She needs to move. She opts not to teleport outside. She's been abusing that power lately and suspects that people have almost caught her in the act. Instead she settles for pacing the office, levitating three metallic balls above her hand as she does so. They move in rapid orbit around an invisible nucleus, quavering slightly with the unconscious wiggling of her fingers. The Adam in her buzzes faintly.

And then the balls drop, clattering to the floor. Eleanor is tired, maybe overwhelmed. She shuffles to her chair and forces herself to stop thinking. She breathes deeply, groping for some peace. She calms, though butterflies remain in her stomach. She suspects they will remain there until she sees Elizabeth again.

Damn hormones.

"Hello there"

"Gah!"

It is a week of undignified moments for Eleanor Lamb. Granted no-one typically goes through the kind of odd things that she goes through. For instance, seated across from her now are Robert and Rosalind Lutece, sitting primly on her chairs as if they had always been there. Their usual impassiveness seems mocking today, though that is of course not their intention. They are wearing their habitual combination of green under tweed. Robert wears a frilly pink apron over everything. Rosalind must have dragged him here.

"I do hope we aren't intruding"

"You are!" She shouts.

"Ah. Well in that case we won't be long"

"We just wanted to congratulate you on giving in to Elizabeth"

"I for one thought you would hold out for a little bit longer"

"And I predicted that you would give in right around yesterday"

"It was a lucky guess"

"Buck up, we can't always be right"

There is a slight quaver in Eleanor's voice, caught as she is between the extremes of befuddlement and annoyance. "Is that _really_ all you came here to say?"

"Oh no no. There was one more thing"

"Quite right. As we are figuratively the closest thing Elizabeth has to family, we are obligated to inform you that should you hurt her"

"Well, we would have to do something drastic"

"Are you serious?" Asks Eleanor. "Is this the, "Don't hurt her or else" speech?"

"Oh yes. We've practiced it"

"How are we doing?"

"Anyway, to get to the point, if you hurt Elizabeth we will be very unpleasant to be around"

"And you don't want that"

"Though we will do nothing if the relationship falls apart of its own accord"

"We _are_ reasonable, after all"

"We can't blame you if you decide the relationship just isn't working"

"It happens to all of us"

"But if you cheat on her or do something similarly oafish"

"Then we shall be quite cross with you indeed"

"What the hell!?" Yells Eleanor, "_I _don't even know what kind of relationship we have and you're already jumping down my throat"

That seems to surprise them.

"You don't?"

"Oh dear"

"Well what can we expect?" Whispers Rosalind to Robert. She is quite audible from across the desk. "She does seem quite inexperienced"

"Hey!"

"Perhaps we jumped the gun this time"

"You should probably have a talk with Elizabeth"

"Which, if we're timing this right, should be riiiight around...now"

Robert and Rosalind disappear as the doors to Eleanor's office swing cheerfully open. Elizabeth walks into the room with a smile on her face, a greeting on the tip of her tongue. The smile falters when she sees Eleanor's flabbergasted state.

"What? What is it?"

Eleanor struggles for words. She bears a slack-jawed incredulity that Eleanor has long learned to recognize as the face people make when dealing with her surrogate family. That face is funniest on street vendors, not so much Eleanor Lamb.

"_They_ were here weren't they?

"Y-yeah"

"What did they want?"

"They told me they'd be angry with me if I ever hurt you"

Elizabeth gets close, intimately so, intimidatingly so, crossing to the other side of the desk and leaning close enough to invade Eleanor's personal space.

"Will you?"

It doesn't seem like a serious question. Not after experiencing the ridiculous invasion of the Luteces. But Eleanor is all business, its apparent even past her smile.

"No promises, but I'll try not to"

"That's fair"

She leans in, planting a peck on Eleanor's lips, and then another. Eleanor reciprocates at first but pulls away before Elizabeth can initiate a full make-out session.

"I don't know what I'm doing," Eleanor says honestly.

Elizabeth answers by sitting sideways on her lap. She's light and soft; it is a pleasant feeling. "Don't worry about that, neither do I. Just let me know when I'm going too far, and I'll stop"

But Eleanor's the adult. Shouldn't _she _be the one saying that? "But I-"

"Hm?"

"I…nothing"

Elizabeth smiles and leans in. They kiss again, short and sweet. Eleanor pulls away.

"Hey"

Elizabeth looks miffed. "What?"

"Try not to hurt me either"

That gets the younger woman to pause, thrown for once. Eleanor almost preens at the accomplishment. It's reassuring that this is new for the both of them.

Elizabeth's expression softens to something gentler than anything Eleanor has ever seen. "I'll try"

* * *

Elizabeth Lutece (Dewitt, Comstock) has the potential to be anything and everything, to be anywhere and everywhere, to be anyone and everyone.

It is hard to stay grounded. It is hard to limit oneself to one experience. Human life seems so mundane at times; too limited by a narrow perception of reality. If only other people could imagine the galactic complexity of the universe's inner workings, the macro picture distilled from the untold trillions of processes that are dictated by only a few fundamental laws.

And that is only the universe as Elizabeth knows it.

Somewhere out there, untold light years away from the boundaries of what technology can see, there might be a place where reality is skewed; where one plus one equals three. Sometimes Elizabeth fantasizes about going to that place, theorizes ways of getting there. These are not very human moments for her.

Sometimes Elizabeth fantasizes about Eleanor Lamb. Conservative clothes stripped slowly, one by one, hitting the floor without a sound. Eleanor's embarrassed expression, trusting. Eleanor dancing for her (a particularly fantastical fantasy, Elizabeth acknowledges to herself), that strong body, moving and swaying to emphasize taut musculature. Eleanor making love to her. Eleanor falling asleep with her.

All Elizabeth needs to do is remember Eleanor Lamb, and her mind stops wandering. She becomes one person, not many. Eleanor Lamb fell in love (somehow) with _this_ Elizabeth in _this_ time, and Elizabeth will do what she can to preserve that love. Elizabeth wonders what Booker Dewitt would say if he could see her now. Would he be happy for her? Undoubtedly. That was all he wanted in the end.

She smiles at the thought of him giving her girlfriend advice. He would be a little gruff about it at first, but would probably prefer she be with a woman than a man. He's cynical like that. _Was_ cynical like that. They would have many amusing conversations about how to charm girls, and perhaps they would share a high-five for Elizabeth landing an older woman.

Even now she loves and misses him.

Eleanor couldn't have said it better herself; love is a chemical, and it's up to us to give it meaning. To Elizabeth, her new love for Eleanor is everything to her, all that keeps her from being something decidedly more than human. She likes to believe that Booker would approve.

Not that Eleanor needs to know that just yet.

"Your sisters are crazy"

The remark rouses her from her reverie. Eleanor's smugness is like a new flavor of ice-cream. Elizabeth wouldn't have thought she would like it, but she does. It's cute on her. "I warned you"

"I didn't really believe you"

She was hiding out in Eleanor's room. Elizabeth had thought it would be a good idea to meet the rest of Eleanor's family. Perhaps it was, but Eleanor's sisters swamped her with questions, made all the more awkward as some of the girls are her age, and they are very curious indeed. Relocating to Eleanor's room started sounding like a good idea when the sisters' questions started stray a bit close to the sensitive side. Eleanor had followed her soon after, beating away her sisters who were baying their approval.

The bedroom is a spacious area, almost indistinguishable from Eleanor's office but for the presence of a bed. Bits of machinery and sheets of equations lie on every surface but the mattress, which plays table to an unusual quilt an a ragtag assortment of improvised toys. One is clearly a big daddy.

Eleanor carelessly knocks a few objects off of the chairs with her telekinesis, slumping into a seat. Before Elizabeth can sit down, telekinesis pulls her onto Eleanor's lap.

Elizabeth grins, leaning against Eleanor's body. "You're being awfully forward today"

"Haven't had you to myself all day"

It had taken a while for Eleanor to become this familiar with her. Weeks had passed without Eleanor being able to muster the courage to so much as hold Elizabeth's hand. Elizabeth was the one who initiated everything, from kissing to sitting on laps. But time melted Eleanor's insecurities, to the point where she could pull stunts like this. Elizabeth revels in every second of it.

Eleanor buries her face into Elizabeth's neck, planting kisses along her collarbone.

"Your skin is so smooth," She murmurs.

"Oh my god, you're being so creepy right now"

"Are you complaining? Should I stop?"

"Don't stop"

Eleanor deepens her kisses, shifting to allow Elizabeth more comfort even as Eleanor's hold on her becomes more and more possessive. Her hands are in the right places, and Elizabeth is more than willing, but as she always does Eleanor stops short of initiating anything deeper than heavy petting.

Elizabeth does not comment. Eleanor would only get embarrassed.

The older woman's grip slackens, and Elizabeth prepares to slide off. There's a cheerful remark on the tip of her tongue, but it is cut off when Eleanor grabs her waist, holding her tightly against her

She murmurs against Elizabeth's shoulder. "You're too patient with me"

"I'll wait as long as it takes"

Eleanor smiles, crinkling the cloth of Elizabeth's blouse. "I…"

"Hmm?"

"Nothing"

* * *

Eleanor Lamb is like a god among mortals. She can end a life with the merest thought, and can endure harsh conditions like no other human can. She is strong, fast, and has the brilliance of several dozens of people. The world would quake at the full force of her power if she were inclined to abuse it.

Like Elizabeth misses Booker Dewitt, Eleanor misses Subject Delta.

_Father, what do you think of me now? _

_I have built a life here, and I have provided for my family. I have looked after them for years, and now I am finally going my own way. I've met someone. A woman. The girls are happy for me, and I confess to being a little giddy about it myself. She's beautiful, unlike anyone I've ever met. She's brilliant, patient, kind; and brings out a lightness in me that I hadn't known before. You would like her, father. Probably. Insofar as you could ever like a person anyway._

_I think I'm falling in love._

Eleanor opens her eyes to the sight of rain paging softly against the living room window. It's after midday, and she has been sitting on this rocking chair for the better part of an hour The lights in the room are off, and as such it is softly illuminated by intermittent flashes of lightning in the distance.

"You were talking to your father again weren't you?"

She isn't surprised to hear her mother behind her. It isn't uncommon that someone walks in on Eleanor in the middle of her introspective mediation, so called because she sits still for a very long time, staring into space. Sophia is the only one who knows what she's really doing.

Thunder roars outside as Eleanor beckons for her mother to take a seat. "Yes"

"Did he have anything interesting to say?"

An old joke. Even if Delta were still alive he wouldn't have anything to say. Eleanor laughs. "No, not this time"

Sophia chuckles, smooth and easy. Decades ago this woman almost killed her to create an ideal. The perfect Utopian. Eleanor always wondered what the reasoning was, and how in the world imbuing a young girl with superpowers was supposed to accomplish that. But rather than ask Sophia outright, she always just assumed that she was crazy at the time. Maybe she still is.

She's certainly less volatile now. Sophia had helped her raise the younger Lamb sisters, and she had mellowed considerably during the whole process. Perhaps she put so much effort into it because she never had the time to raise her own child, a hypothesis Eleanor could only guess at, having a much smaller background in psychology than her mother.

Lightning strikes right outside the window, splitting a tree asunder before their eyes. The force of the bolt resonates with Eleanor's genes, jump-starting her adrenaline. Electricity runs easily between her fingers, dissipating at the tips.

"I see your powers are making a comeback," Remarks Sophia.

"They never really left. I've been teleporting to work for years"

"But you've been using a greater variety lately. I saw you sweep the floor with wind the other day"

"Plasmids have many applications. It says so on the bottle"

Sophia ignores her sarcasm. "I wonder if all this has anything to do with that young woman you've been seeing? What was her name again?"

As if she actually forgot. Sophia's attention to detail is nothing short of computorial. "Elizabeth"

"That's right. Things must be going very well for you"

Is that sarcasm Eleanor hears? Things _are_ going well. Slow, but that is to be expected. Elizabeth is very understanding of Eleanor's need for an even pace, or at least pretends to be. It's all Eleanor can do to keep from acquiescing to Elizabeth's every desire, if only so that the girl doesn't lose interest. What is it about romance that makes one want to throw self-respect out the window?

It puts Eleanor in a pensive mood.

"How did you meet my father?" She asks suddenly. The rain intensifies for all of a second. Sophia turns in surprise. "Not Delta," Eleanor amends, "my biological father. Somehow I just don't see you being…courted in the traditional sense"

Sophia pauses for a moment before breaking out in a hearty laugh that ends in so many breathless coughs that Sophia sounds like she's about to pop a lung. She wipes spittle from her lips, still smiling. "My dear girl, if you're trying to learn to navigate the dark waters of adulthood, then I'm afraid you will have better luck asking one of your sisters"

Eleanor concedes the point, laughing a bit herself, though Sophia's reaction has made her curious.

"Fair enough. But how _did_ you meet my father? You never told me"

"I never told you because he was never relevant. I wanted a child, so I procured the necessary manpower to produce one"

"Mother, ew"

"Oh your generation likes to add bells and whistles to the whole thing, but making babies is, and always has been, straightforwardly mechanical"

"Thank you mother, for that glimpse into the beautiful story of my conception"

"What? You asked. Did you want me to tell you that I met a strapping young sailor who whisked me away from my ivory tower, only to teach me the beauty of true love?"

Eleanor sighs. She should have known better than to get a straight answer. "I get it"

Sophia goes on, ignoring her. "But our love was doomed from the start, as I could never reconcile my love with my ambition"

"I get it mother!"

Sophia sighs, sidling close to her daughter and taking her arm. "I can't tell you how to have a perfect relationship. There's no such thing. But you're young, and I promise that you won't regret trying. Though it certainly seems like Elizabeth is trying enough for the both of you"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means, dear, that if you have time to worry about your relationship, then you have time to critically reflect on something more productive"

It's cheap advice. A platitude really. But it's reassuring in a bland way.

"I should listen to you more often," Says Eleanor, resting her head on her mother's shoulder. "I don't know if you ever truly mean what you say, but at least you're good at faking this whole "love" thing"

"I'll remind you that you said that later"

* * *

Perhaps it is not so strange that Elizabeth is the first one to ask for an official date.

She is more forward than Eleanor, and more certain of what she wants. Eleanor is happy to acquiesce to that eagerness. When they first met Elizabeth was so reserved, a hesitant student in the sway of an older professor. Now she is completely different, taking Eleanor by the hand and yanking her bodily into a world Eleanor had never entertained for herself.

Never mind that Eleanor is older, taller, physically stronger, and maybe even more intelligent; Elizabeth Lutece is the one at the wheel, and Eleanor is happy to remain in the passenger seat.

For one, she wouldn't even know how to plan a first date, though as she overlooks the Nepali landscape underneath a crest of the Anapurna Mountain, she can't help but think that first dates aren't typically like this. Certainly most dates don't start with one person teleporting the other halfway around the world.

She looks back at Elizabeth who is unpacking a rather well-stocked picnic basket. The bright colors of the picnic blanket contrasts with the white of the snow, though it goes well with Elizabeth's bright red overcoat.

"You're all about big gestures aren't you?" Says Eleanor. She wears her usual clothes. With her powers she can regulate and dispense heat in her body with minimal effort. The snow she walks on actually melts as her foot rests on it.

Elizabeth smiles, her breath cloudy from the cold. "I don't want you to get bored with me"

"Believe me, you couldn't bore me if you tried"

Elizabeth flushes, pleased. "I thought it would be nice to get away for a bit. Get to know each other better"

"We've known each other for the better part of a year"

"Yeah, but we spent a lot of that time being awkward and avoiding one another"

The reminder stings, but Eleanor hides it well. "I suppose that's true. What did you want to discuss?"

"I don't know. You"

"Me? I thought you already knew everything about me"

"Yeah, bits and pieces. The important stuff, but nothing substantial"

"Oh? So you don't know that I have a special fondness for French cheeses and enjoy long showers?"

Elizabeth chuckles, tucking her black hair into the hood of her parka. "I had no idea about the first one. I hope to learn the second one firsthand sometime"

Eleanor' cheeks burn crimson. "How can you be so forward about these things?"

"I figure the best way to charm my way into your good graces is to be honest. I know how much you appreciate it"

"Yes, but some decorum, please"

Elizabeth smiles indulgently, taking a seat on the picnic blanket. It's a sunny day, but still very cold and windy at this height. If they weren't in a cave then the blanket would be blown away in a second. "As the lady wishes"

Eleanor crosses to the blanket, sitting on crossed legs next to Elizabeth. "What do we have today?"

Elizabeth produces assorted appetizers from all of the places Eleanor likes eat lunch while she works. Eleanor snorts in amusement, more than a little charmed.

"You don't even like half of these foods," She says, eagerly reaching for a bowl of spicy khorma.

"I'm learning to appreciate them. Though I doubt I will ever get used to the prospect of eating cow brains"

"Well thank you," Eleanor plants a kiss on Elizabeth's cold check. "You're freezing, come here"

Elizabeth doesn't complain as Eleanor pulls her onto her lap. "You're warm"

"Plasmid technology. I can channel heat throughout my body and produce flame whenever I want"

"Ooh, you're like a superhero. What else can you do?"

"I can channel electricity"

"Very nice"

"I can move objects with my mind"

"That I already knew"

"I can produce a swarm of insects from my skin to attack my enemies"

Elizabeth moves away, looking at her sharply. "You're kidding me"

Eleanor smiles ruefully. "I'm not. I always wondered why that particular plasmid was made"

"In my universe they were called vigors"

"What was that place like?"

"A lot like Rapture actually, only it was in the sky and had more of a religious bent than an economic one." Even now it is strange hearing Elizabeth speak f Rapture as if she has experienced them herself. Elizabeth catches her expression. "You know I was there once. In Rapture"

"Seriously?"

"Only briefly mind you. And it was more to prove a point than…" She trails off, a sad expression ghosting her face before it disappears. "Never mind"

"I understand." And she does understand. If Elizabeth's city in the sky was anything like Rapture then it is best left forgotten.

Elizabeth shivers, whether by the cold or her memories, Eleanor isn't certain. But she gestures for Elizabeth to join her. "Come here," She says. "I'll warm you up"

Elizabeth wordlessly clambers onto her lap once again. Eleanor breathes deep, activating that switch in her genes that produces fire. Her body warms considerably and Elizabeth sighs against her chest. When Eleanor looks down she is surprised to see a tears threatening at the corner of Elizabeth's eyes. She opens her mouth to say something, but can't find the words.

Elizabeth smiles at her reticence, reaching up to cup Eleanor's cheek. She says nothing, closing her eyes and cuddling a little closer.

"I like this," Eleanor says, more earnest now than she has felt in years, "just…being with you." She supposes it's a corny thing to say, but it is safe to say these things to Elizabeth.

"I like it too." Elizabeth's eyes remain closed. "You want me to take us back now?"

"Yeah. Sure"

In an instant they are in Elizabeth's room, seated on a sofa that is facing a bare wall. Eleanor feels like asking what is up with the bare wall, but forgoes that for more cuddling. They remain that way for quite some time, long enough for Eleanor's lap to grow numb under Elizabeth's weight. She can't really bring herself to care.


	4. Chapter 4

It is deceptively easy to find fault in one's actions, even weeks after the fact. Search one's mind long enough and you will eventually uncover some skeletal memory the remembrance of which has one's heart sinking to the pit of their stomach.

For Elizabeth, this revelation occurs as she is daydreaming about her girlfriend.

It has been a few weeks since their unlikely courtship, and while it started with some misgivings on both their parts, it has been remarkably pleasant since then. Eleanor grows more affectionate by the day, braving touches that careen tantalizingly short of actual sex. But she chickens out at the last minute, every single time. It is an adorable, if not frustrating, aspect to her otherwise unflappable character, but sometimes, when she is being especially pensive and moody, Elizabeth can't help but think that Eleanor's hesitancy stems from something other than shyness.

It is a notion that germinates in her mind, growing to occupy the tail end of her every thought. It is a niggling suspicion at first, but doubt follows soon after. Eleanor is a mature woman, but her inexperience might be all that keeps her invested in their relationship. In that case maybe Elizabeth is just an experiment.

If that is the truth then Eleanor couldn't possibly be aware of it. She doesn't have it in her to be that cruel.

Elizabeth ponders the matter while walking the long country road to Eleanor's mansion. Usually she opts to teleport wherever she needs to go, but Eleanor's physical fitness has prompted her to exercise where she can. The trouble with long walks however, is that they inspire too much introspection for Elizabeth's own good.

Maybe, she thinks, Eleanor is asexual

Maybe Elizabeth is expecting too much.

Maybe, maybe, maybe…

It hits her like a ton of bricks.

When Elizabeth had first seen the tear, all those weeks ago, Eleanor's nose had bled soon after. Elizabeth groans as something inside her wilts a little. The answer to Eleanor's persistent reticence. It was obvious really; something had changed in the universe as they knew it. Elizabeth had just assumed that she fractured a timeline, but maybe she warped Eleanor's brain.

Elizabeth's head spins at the possibility. Had she been fooling herself this whole time? No, she recognizes the affection in Eleanor's eyes. It's genuine. But that would imply something much worse, that Eleanor is subject to these feelings against her will.

That thought makes Elizabeth a little bit nauseous.

* * *

She pauses at the side of the road. The wind picks up, shifting her dress to the side. The mansion is now in sight, the interior lit in anticipation of the waning sun. In the last few weeks she has started to feel more and more welcome there. Now she feels nothing but disquiet.

"Hey is Elizabeth here?"

Jane doesn't look up from her laptop as she replies to her eldest sister who has just walked into the sitting room, still encumbered by her many bags. She sheds them all in one careless fell swoop, as is her habit. It will be Jane's fault to clean up after her.

"I don't know." Sighs Jane, "Ask Nadia"

"Elizabeth said she'd be here. Are you sure you haven't seen her?"

"Absolutely. Ask Nadia"

Eleanor teleports away, leaving Jane to put down her book and wearily collect Eleanor's things.

As it turns out, Nadia hasn't seen Elizabeth either. Neither has Sasha, or Neha, or even Sophia. Elizabeth must not have arrived yet. Curious, but nothing terrible. People are late sometimes, right? Even when they can teleport at will.

Mustering depths of patience she was unaware she had, Eleanor spends the next hour in the sitting room, glancing out the window every now and then to see if Elizabeth is cresting the hill. Her own niggling anxiety alarms her, if only because she hasn't felt this sort of nervous want for a person before. How have people stood it for centuries, this business of falling in love? It's enough to send a girl into angsty sighs in the middle of the day.

Jane, unlucky for her, is present to witness this, and as she tries in vain to concentrate on reading her novel, she just knows that the inevitable question will present itself any moment now.

"Say Jane?"

"Mm?"

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

Well, not the question Jane was expecting, but close enough to induce flinching. "Yeah... She's actually been over a bunch of times. Do you seriously not remember?"

"Is she the tall, muscular, Scottish one?"

"Her name is Brennan"

"Right. How…far have you gotten with Brennan?"

"Excuse me?"

"You know, in the bedroom"

Jane reddens. "I know what you meant! Jesus, what're you asking me for?"

"I just want to know how long it took for you to…be comfortable enough to…you know, with another woman"

"AAAAAHHHHH! LALALALALALA," Jane covers her ears, willing her palms to block out sound, "I CAN'T HEAR YOU. I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"

"Fine! Fine! I won't ask. Good grief, you would think I could ask these things every now and then"

"Well it's weird"

"Why?"

"Because you're basically my Mom. And it's weird when your Mom asks you for lesbian dating advice"

"Wha-?! I am _not_ your mother!"

"Well you raised me, so you're as close as I'm likely to get. Really though, you should ask Sasha or Neha. They would love to talk about this stuff with you"

Eleanor sighs, "You've always been a private one." She smiles at Jane fondly, letting the thought stray into silence. She looks lost in thought for a moment, before checking the time and tsk-ing under her breath. "Really, where is Elizabeth?"

And though she would never admit it, Jane does enjoy watching Eleanor getting all flustered over a girl. "Call her"

"I can't just call her!"

"Why not?"

"What if she's busy? Maybe that's why she hasn't showed up yet"

"She's not so busy that she can't just call you." Eleanor considers this before grudgingly calling Elizabeth's number. She waits a few rings before being directed to voice-mail. She calls again, only to get the same result. Jane suggests she sends a text, which she does. "Where r you?" She asks. Then: "Are u ok?" Again, no response.

"Maybe I should check in on her"

"Maybe you should do that"

Without preamble she teleports to the Lutece house. No-one is home, judging from the lightless living room. Soft noises can be heard from above, so Eleanor investigates by climbing the stairs. Seeing light under Elizabeth's door, she knocks it a few times.

"Beth?" Eleanor doesn't need to extend her senses to know that Elizabeth is on the other side of the door. There is an utter stillness too out-of-place to be unintentional. "Are you okay?"

No answer.

"You didn't answer my text messages so…I guess you wanted some space. In retrospect maybe showing up here wasn't a great plan. Way to be clingy Eleanor." She says the last bit with a self-depreciating laugh. There is no laugh forthcoming from the other side of the door. Eleanor sobers, the cheer falling from her lips. "Alright then," She continues awkwardly, "uh, if something's wrong, you can talk to me. You know that right?"

The door comes ajar. Elizabeth stands at the opening, shoulders slumped in dejection. She wants to stop Eleanor before she is swept up in the inevitable embrace, but lacks the willpower to do so. Even as she revels in the warmth of Eleanor's arms she curses herself for her weakness. It will only make what she has to do that much harder.

Eleanor drinks in the weight of Elizabeth, the smell of Elizabeth; the soft texture of her skin and the furtive scent of her clothes and shampoo. It's so calming. But then she smells a hint static and ozone, and Elizabeth's body tenses in her arms. Something begins to rearrange itself in Eleanor's mind, molding sharply into an unfamiliar foundations. Unthinking, Eleanor reacts by sending electricity through her own body.

"Ow!" Elizabeth staggers back, surprised with the pain of Eleanor's sudden electric shock.

The feeling of impending danger disappears, and Eleanor is left to look confusedly at her girlfriend. There is no small amount of hurt in her expression. She has long become familiar with the sensations that preclude Elizabeth's shifts in the fabric of reality. But this didn't feel like a teleport, not at all. This felt wrong. Fundamentally so.

"What were you about to do?" Asks Eleanor, voice low, accusatory.

Elizabeth doesn't look at her, keeping her gaze lidded and low. "What I had to"

"What are you talking about?!"

Elizabeth flinches at every sharp syllable. Eleanor never yells unless she can help it.

"Elizabeth, speak to me." Eleanor's voice is lower now, entreating, but no less hurt. The sympathy stings.

Elizabeth shakes her head. She has never felt more childish. Eleanor cups her face, tracing gentle strokes with her thumb. But her expression is still hard. She doesn't have to say anything to coax out a response, she knows Elizabeth well enough by now.

It's funny. When they were still getting to know one another Eleanor would use these severe silences to prompt Elizabeth to speak her mind. She would not always feel comfortable adding her input to whatever Eleanor was working on, and Eleanor's expectant stares had a strange way of drawing out her opinions. She never said it, but those stares always had an implicit message.

_I trust you_. It is more than Elizabeth deserves.

Why hadn't Elizabeth told Eleanor of her realization? Because she had no trust to give back? Or because she was too guilty to consider that maybe Eleanor would object to her presumptions?

Whatever the reason, Eleanor does not deserve the waffling of a child.

"Earlier I had a thought," Elizabeth begins. "About the day I quit working for you"

"What about it?"

"It…I forgot about it completely. But not long after it happened your nose started bleeding"

"So?"

"So? So!? That's a sign that you changed. Or that the universe changed, or that maybe we aren't even in the same universe from before. Either way, you were altered somehow. I can't believe I didn't think of it before"

Eleanor shakes her head helplessly. "What are you getting at?"

Elizabeth's breath leaves her. Her heat pumps faster. She has to collect herself, and repress her own tears when she says, "It means that what you feel for me, if you feel anything, isn't real. When I realized that, I knew I had to-" Her voice breaks, and her next exhalation is a sob.

She wants to look away now, but she keeps her gaze trained on Eleanor. She watches as the gears in the older woman's head begin to turn. She puts it together quickly; Elizabeth would expect no less of such a brilliant mind.

"What did you have to do?" It is a demand as much as it is a question.

Elizabeth stiffens, steeling herself for judgment. "Once I realized what I had done, I knew I had to make it right; make it so that you weren't forced to have feelings that you didn't have"

Eleanor can see the logic in that. She can even appreciate it. But there are way too many variables for it to be that simple.

"You weren't even going to talk to me about this"

The accusation stings, but Elizabeth makes no attempt to deny it.

"That was thoughtless of you"

"You're right," Murmurs Elizabeth, "but I thought that if was going to lose you, then I ought to do it in a way so-"

"So I wouldn't get mad at you." Eleanor sighs. "I'm not mad. Scratch that, I am, but more than that I'm just…hurt." And somehow that is so much worse. "I can't believe you would do this

"You are so powerful, Elizabeth. Beyond my imagining. But you can't resort to the reset button every time you make a mistake. What did you think was going to happen? We would just resume our lives before you seduced me?" They both blush at that, for it is more or less the truth.

"I was thinking of you," Elizabeth responds lowly, "I can't bear the thought of you only liking me because of some quantum kerfuffle"

"No, you clearly weren't thinking of me. You were thinking of yourself. Maybe you did change me a little bit, but that was an accident. This was intentional, and done without my permission. How could you think I would want this?" Eleanor smiles to lighten the mood. "And I've always liked you. Maybe I wasn't always sexually attracted to you, but I always liked you. You should know that"

"Then why…!?" Elizabeth bites her lip.

"What?"

"Why have you been so distant? You never want to do anything past kissing, so I thought-"

"You thought I was resisting the influence of your abilities"

Elizabeth nods.

Was _that_ what this was all about?

Eleanor pulls Elizabeth into a kiss. The younger woman immediately melts, opening her mouth to let in Eleanor's tongue. Eleanor is clearly in control here, but she does nothing to assert dominance. She kisses, languid and fervent, pulling the younger woman's body against her own and letting her hands trace Elizabeth's waist. Elizabeth squeaks, but doesn't complain, engaging with the sudden show of passion by throwing her arms around Eleanor's neck.

And then Eleanor pulls away, looking Elizabeth straight in the eyes. "Don't you think I would have enough respect for myself, and you, to end this if I wasn't really attracted?"

Elizabeth hadn't thought of that.

Eleanor floats them both to the bed, leaving herself on the bottom with Elizabeth cuddled snugly on top. She does this partly for comfort, and partly so that Elizabeth can't look her in the eyes when she says in a shaky voice, "As for my…hesitancy, I don't want to move too fast because this is new territory for me. Anyone would be nervous." It's her usual reason, but the vulnerability in her voice lets Elizabeth know that she's serious. "Maybe your abilities did change me, and you know what? If that's true then I don't care. I got a cute girlfriend out of it"

No other words could have coaxed the grudging snort of laughter from Elizabeth's lips.

"Besides," Continues Eleanor, even more reticent now, "You always seem so confident…it's a little intimidating actually. So…yeah. If I've been hesitant then that's why"

"Eleanor." Eleanor keeps her eyes on the ceiling at Elizabeth's playful voice. "Are you saying I intimidate you sexually?"

That's exactly what she's saying, but she isn't going to state it outright. They are both wildly unique and powerful people. But its moments like these that remind her that they are both still human, and both very flawed.

Elizabeth picks up on Eleanor's mood and drops the teasing. "I'm so, so sorry. Forgive me?"

Eleanor's lamely persisting anger wilts at the tone. Elizabeth is too headstrong, too stubborn to be talking like that. She kisses the top of Elizabeth's head, meaning she isn't quite forgiven yet, but she is back in Eleanor's good graces. The older woman holds her just a bit tighter. How odd that she is vehemently defending a relationship that scared her so much before.

Should it bother her that her sexual inclination may be reproduction of another universe? Maybe it should, but it doesn't. Such complications don't seem to matter as much when you have a beautiful girl in your arms.

* * *

Eleanor is nervous as she walks down to the campus courtyard, for once carrying no bags at all. She isn't sure why she should be nervous, but she is. She's on her way to meet Elizabeth for lunch, and the courtyard is close enough to where both of them need to be around this time of day to be a perfect meeting spot. It isn't as private as the cafeteria, but at this point most of the student body knows or at least suspects their relationship.

What makes Eleanor nervous is what she intends to ask. _Will you have dinner with me? Just the two of us?_ She wants to take Elizabeth to a nice restaurant; one of those places with pretentious waiters and dishes that cost way too much. Eleanor has called in advance for a table for two.

Finding her way into the courtyard, she searches for signs of Elizabeth. Lots of students like to mingle here in between classes, and even more like to take their lunch here. With their schedules so busy, Elizabeth and Eleanor like to meet here as well, each taking turns as food-bringer. Today it is Elizabeth's turn to supply lunch. No doubt she has grabbed take-out rather than actually cook.

There! She spots her, sitting primly on a bench in front of some public statuary.

Eleanor begins to make her way over with a smile, only to baulk at the sight of not two, but three students talking and laughing with Elizabeth as if they belong in her company. Those must be her friends, Eleanor realizes. Unsure of what to do, Eleanor waffles in a vague orbit around the group, casting them surreptitious glances in every once in a while. Elizabeth looks completely at ease, like she's having fun.

And then one of Elizabeth's friends spots her, meeting Eleanor's eyes for a split second before Eleanor wrenches her gaze away. Glancing back, she notices the girl lean over and whisper smilingly into Elizabeth's ear. She points directly at Eleanor. Eleanor curses, but doesn't move as Elizabeth looks excitedly in the direction the finger is pointing.

So much for subtlety.

Eleanor looks over, sheepish. Her shoulders slump just a bit when Elizabeth gives a demanding curl of the finger. _Come hither_. Eleanor complies.

The friends don't leave as she draws near, looking up at her in open fascination. She wonders if Elizabeth has told them anything of their unusual courtship. She hopes with every fiber of her being that this is not the case.

"Hey Eleanor"

Eleanor has often thought it strange that they don't call each other anything more endearing than each other's names, but in this moment she is very grateful that they don't.

Eleanor's looks uncomfortably to the faces of Elizabeth's friends, and is horrified to realize that some of them are in her class.

"Ms. Lutece," She manages, overly formal. Elizabeth looks at once disappointed and highly amused. "May I speak with you a moment?"

"What about?"

Eleanor looks at her entreatingly, willing her to feel the discomfort she feels.

"Er, you know. That, um…stuff, we were discussing earlier"

Elizabeth smiles. She turns back to her friends. "Sorry guys. It looks like my girlfriend would like me all to herself"

Eleanor's face burns red as Elizabeth takes her arm and pulls her away into a sedate walk, amused catcalls following them. Eleanor vows to grade them extra harshly the next chance she gets.

Finally they arrive at one of the alcoves on the other side of the courtyard. If she were so inclined, Elizabeth could stop time and teleport them to Eleanor's office, but she decides not to. There's something absolutely delicious, after all, about kissing your teacher in public. Eleanor indulges her for a while before pulling hastily back, flushed, watching to see if anyone has spotted them. Satisfied that no-one has, she looks at Eleanor with embarrassment still plain in her expression.

"Don't put me through that again!" She says, eliciting a laugh from Elizabeth.

"I'm sorry, but you're so easy to tease"

"Stop laughing! That was really weird for me"

"Oh come on, we're not exactly a well-kept secret"

"Still"

Elizabeth smiles softly, standing on her tip-toes to plant a quick peck on Eleanor's lips. "You're just too cute." She holds up a pair of take-out bags. "I brought lunch." They settle into their customary table by the trees. It isn't exactly hidden, but it affords more privacy than eating in the open.

Eleanor is nervous all over again. Best get it over with quickly: "Do you want to have dinner with me?"

Elizabeth's eyes widen in mid-chew. She swallows. "At your place?"

"N-no." Should she have planned for that? Would Elizabeth like it more? "A restaurant"

"Oh"

The sit in silence for a while until Eleanor prompts her. "Sooo…"

"Oh! Yes! Yes, of course. Where did you have in mind?

* * *

Elizabeth was raised in an environment intended to keep her wanting for nothing. It did not truly fulfill this purpose (perhaps because of all the books Comstock foolishly left her), but she grew up familiar with Columbian luxury.

It does not quite live up to the luxury available to rich Londoners, and certainly not the place Eleanor has taken her. It's not a restaurant at the top of a building or anything, but the atmosphere alone is enough to make her feel distinctly ill-at-ease.

Elizabeth peeks over her menu. "Are you sure you're okay with these prices?"

Eleanor shoots her the third exasperated look she's given all night. "You know I _am_ an award-winning physicist. I put all my sisters through university. I think I can pay for a few fancy meals." She punctuates this last thought with a smile. "Relax, I didn't bring you here to make you uncomfortable." She takes Elizabeth's hand. "You look beautiful"

"Thanks. I thought you would appreciate the dress"

Eleanor laughs. "Yeah, I was wondering when I would get to see it"

It's the dress from the tear, the one that Elizabeth bought but never got to wear. Eleanor had expected her to wear something a little more conservative, but then Elizabeth probably hadn't expected Eleanor to arrive at her house wearing an elegant strapless dress of her own.

"It's not that I'm uncomfortable. It's just that this all seems a little forced"

"Oh come on"

"Seriously," She says in amused confusion, "Eleanor, we rode here in a car. A car. You probably called for it and everything. Was that really necessary?"

Eleanor shrugs. "I don't know, I thought it was nice to do something normal for a change"

That earns her an affectionate smile. "You're so strange sometimes"

Eleanor can't bring herself to say that she did it because she wanted to do something special. That would be embarrassing at this point, especially because of Elizabeth's ambivalence. "Thanks I guess"

"Oh, I'm sorry baby, you're trying to do something nice and I'm ruining it for you"

"Did you just call me "baby"?"

"I'm trying it out. What do you think?"

"It has a certain…suburban charm to it"

Elizabeth chuckles. "I'll think of something else then"

"Please do"

The meal proceeds pleasantly enough. If the waiter thinks anything of two women out on a date, with one noticeably older than the other, he does not comment. It's something to be thankful for. As their relationship becomes more and more public, the two of them have gotten a lot of slack from people whose business their relationship decidedly isn't.

It's not like the opinions of those people even matter. On the other hand, the opinions of people who do matter…

Elizabeth buries her head in her hands as she spots the suspicious couple eating at the other side of the room. It's a man and a woman wearing all denim, sitting up straight and primly peaking over at their table over their menus, despite their food already having arrived.

They may not be wearing their usual clothes, but Elizabeth can spot Rosalind and Robert Lutece from a mile away.

"What is it?"

"Don't look now but the twins are here"

"The twins?" Eleanor casts a covert backwards glance. "Oh, you mean Robert and Rosalind. How on Earth did they get a table? I had to call weeks in advance"

"I swear, they get off on invading my privacy"

She makes as if to get up but Eleanor grabs her wrist, rubbing it coaxingly with her thumb. "Oh Beth, its fine. They aren't doing any harm"

"How would you like it if your sisters were here?"

"You're right. But when you came over to the house the other day, my sisters swarmed you with questions for an hour. When I met Rosalind and Robert, they invited me to a nice dinner. They're not that bad"

"Don't even try to make this a contest over who has the more annoying family. You will lose"

Elizabeth scoffs. "I bet I won't"

"Oh yeah? Did your sisters buy you a packet of condoms for your twenty-first birthday with a card attached saying 'just in case'?"

"No, but a few years ago my oldest younger sister tried to set me up with one of her co-workers"

"Robert and Rosalind get so invested in the most pointless arguments that they yell at each other, and I can hear it from the second floor"

"My sisters once threw a party while I was at a conference in Berlin and trashed the whole house"

They smile at each other. The contest is on.

An hour and a half later, they're full on food and good spirits. Nobody really won the contest.

They don't take the car when they leave. Elizabeth was mortified enough by the bill. But they don't teleport immediately home. Instead they walk through London in the nighttime, enjoying the sight of places like Covent Garden and Leicester Square lit up at night. It's a game they play; teleporting from one location to another before either of them notices. Elizabeth is by far the better player, but she has an unfair advantage. Pressed against each other, with Eleanor's arm over Elizabeth's shoulders, they enjoy each other's company under the night sky. No words needed.

Finally, Eleanor teleports them to the front of Elizabeth's flat. The younger woman casts her a dubious look.

"Trying to get rid of me so soon? And here I thought we were having a marvelous time"

"This was fun," Eleanor agrees. "The night doesn't have to end just yet"

"What do you have in mind?" Asks Elizabeth with a smile. "We can probably sneak into a show. Shrek the Musical is showing on Drury Lane"

Eleanor pulls a face, making Elizabeth giggle. "No, I mean," Her voice drops a bit as she has difficulty getting the words out, "I meant, maybe I could come inside"

Elizabeth's eyes widen, and her mouth opens a bit in surprise. "Uh," She says hesitantly, "you want to come inside? With me? For tea or something?"

"…Yes"

"In a literal sense? Or more of a…figurative kind of-"

"Elizabeth can we just go inside!?"

"Right!" Elizabeth jumps to comply. Unlocking the door and holding it open. All of a sudden she's giddy and nervous at the same time. She isn't sure what she supposed to be doing. The protocol isn't clear. Is she supposed to take the lead here!? She has no idea how! Just like a teacher to spring a pop quiz like this.

"Elizabeth." The teacher's voice is tremulous with vulnerability. "In case I was being too subtle, I'd like it if we could...you know. Tonight. I'm ready"

She nears, leaning down to capture Elizabeth's lips in a passionate kiss. She pulls away. Her hands vibrate with nervousness.

"I know you've been waiting a long time. I love that you've been so patient with me. Now I'm sure. I want you to be my first, and hopefully my last, but…I'm getting ahead of myself. Sorry, I don't know how these "Take me now" speeches should go"

Elizabeth's stomach is full of butterflies, but she moves anyway. She takes Eleanor's hand and they immediately teleport to Elizabeth's room.

"Lights on or off?"

"Which would you prefer?"

"On, but-"

Eleanor switches on the lights with a telekinetic flick of her wrist.

Elizabeth smiles. "I want to see you," she says. She takes off Eleanor's jacket easily enough, and the dress isn't hard to figure out either. She undoes the clasps at the back one-by-one. Before she can reach the last one, Eleanor stops her.

"You too," She says softly. Elizabeth gets her meaning immediately, shrugging off her own jacket and slipping the straps of her dress over her shoulders. The sudden strip takes Eleanor by surprise. She didn't expect the dress to fall away so quickly, or for Elizabeth to bend over and remove her knickers. Elizabeth stands up straight, flashing Eleanor a confident grin.

Eleanor gasps.

Elizabeth's body is soft and slender; practically petite. She's alluring, and knows it as Eleanor stares at her, transfixed. The younger woman stalks closer, oozing a nervous sort of sensuality born from excitement and eagerness. She pushes Eleanor gently onto the bed. Eleanor lands on her back, but her eyes remain on the naked girl climbing on top of her.

Small touches prompt her to arch her back upwards, and Elizabeth undoes the last clasp She leans up to capture Eleanor in a kiss before standing back and pulling the rest of the dress languorously away. It gives easily, sliding silkily between her body and the coverlet of the bed.

"Beautiful"

"How cliché of you to notice," Husks Eleanor. But Elizabeth's mind is heady with arousal, kissing Eleanor on her mouth, across her jaw, along her neck.

Eleanor's body exudes her strength. Chorded muscles run down her arms and legs, and finely-toned abdominals mark the smooth landscape of her skin. Her breasts are full and soft, and Elizabeth wastes no time taking them in her hands. Just the feel of their naked bodies pressed together, the closeness, is its own sort of bliss.

"You are surprisingly soft"

Even through her shyness Eleanor finds it in herself to give Elizabeth a pointed look. "Please stop commenting on my body while I'm naked"

"You have nothing to be self-conscious about"

"Easy for you to say. You look like fucking…*ah!* Emma Watson"

"I love that you talk dirty when you're nervous"

That earns a laugh. "Elizabeth…"

Elizabeth presses her finger to Eleanor's lips, giving her a comforting smile that Eleanor returns uneasily.

"I'm going to start now," She husks, "If I do something you don't like, tell me"

"A-alright"

"And just keep in mind that I haven't done this before either so be patient with me"

Eleanor smiles at her again. "Noted"

Elizabeth's hand reaches down, ghosting her touch along Eleanor's thighs. The older woman shudders. "This," Says Elizabeth, yanking away Eleanor's knickers, "should be educational for us both"

Eleanor has been to Elizabeth's room several times now. She isn't sure that there was always a ceiling fan, but there is one there now. It spins so slowly that it may as well not be there at all. It creates a breeze so slight that Eleanor can scarcely feel it on her bare shoulders that peek out from the covers. She wants to shift to a more comfortable position, but Elizabeth is curled up against her, asleep. Eleanor doesn't dare disturb her. Instead she shifts her legs every once in a while to fight off her own restlessness.

It is pitch dark in the room, but for a blue curtain that seems to glow from the moonlight hitting it. It is quiet. There should be the ticking and tocking of a clock to punctuate this quiet, but alas there is none. Eleanor's sense of classical setting is disappointed.

She hadn't expected to fall asleep. She expected a lackluster performance on both their parts, followed by consolation hugging that promised better lovemaking in the future. Instead, Elizabeth had proved herself a creative and versatile lover. Eleanor learned things about her body that no amount of reading could ever accomplish.

She telekinetically pulls Elizabeth closer to her, shifting the sheets softly in the dark, gently so that Elizabeth doesn't wake up.

"Hey"

"Sorry, did I wake you up?"

They speak in whispers, though there's no real reason to do so. "I've been up for a while now. You startled me just then"

"Sorry"

"Hey, no problem," Elizabeth props herself on one elbow so that she's looming over Eleanor. "Did you want to..?" There is a playful hint in those words. Elizabeth is probably wagging her eyebrows in the darkness.

"You're insatiable. Can't you let me cuddle in peace?"

Elizabeth cuddles closer, tucking her head on Eleanor's shoulder. "Done"

Eleanor brings her arm around the small of Elizabeth's back, feeling possessive

"What were you thinking about?"

What _was_ she thinking about? Nothing in particular. She just feels inordinately close to Elizabeth right now. She feels safe and vulnerable at the same time. She trusts Elizabeth completely, and she wants the closeness she feels to her right now to mean something other than sex.

"Nothing really." She lets the silence stretch a bit before speaking up again. She isn't sure what she needs to say right now, but she doesn't feel rushed. Elizabeth's breath tickles her breast like the world's most patient metronome.

"Can I tell you about my father?"

Elizabeth stiffens next to her. She gets up, sitting up with her legs to the side. Eleanor can see her silhouette against the blue curtain, looking down at her.

"That's a strange thing to say, considering"

"I'm not jaded you brat. Come on, this is important to me"

"Alright. Then can I tell you about mine?"

Where to begin? Is there a clear beginning and ending to the story of Subject Delta? Yes. Can the same be said of Booker Dewitt? No, most certainly not.

When Eleanor tells her tale, she talks about the Delta she knew. Yes, he was a wordless, hulking pseudo-machine with a detachable drill-hand, but he was also the kindest person she had ever known. His moral compass was unflappable, and he always seemed so sure of what he was doing; that what he was doing was right.

"I struggle every day of my life to emulate his choices," Says Eleanor, her back propped against the headboard. Elizabeth leans against her chest in contemplative relaxation. "At the very end he was too weak to go on. He was dying, and before he could die I extracted his Adam to preserve his essence in myself"

Elizabeth is quiet for a time. "How can you forgive your mother after all of the horrible things she has done?"

Eleanor hadn't expected Elizabeth to ask about her mother of all things. "I suppose because that's what my father would do"

"Do you really think that she's changed? From what you've told me she sounded completely uncaring. She smothered you with a pillow in front of your father for heaven's sake!"

"I've thought about that actually. You're right, why should I think my forgiveness can change her? In reality I don't. She may be as sociopathic as she ever was. All that keeps her from doing anything truly rash is my dominance over her"

"Those are…strong words"

"It's the truth. My mansion is as much a prison to her as it is a home"

"How can you think like that?"

"By questioning my morality each and every day. You said you went to Rapture, but I doubt you experienced it the way any of us did. You…cannot imagine how terrible it was. The whole population slowly succumbed to madness, and then they stayed that way. For years and years. Sometimes I could hear them screaming, even through the hallucinogenic glamor of the ADAM-slug in my body. I was special, if only because my mother wanted a test-subject related to her by blood. The other little sisters weren't so lucky. If they weren't harvested they eventually grew up and became big sisters, young women whose idyllic vision of the world is abruptly stripped away, and they go mad, just like everyone else. Big sisters, they wear these suits, I have mine still. I'll show it to you sometime.

"Anyway, do you know what the suit looks like in the eyes of a little sister? The helmet is a tiara, the weapons are delicate gloves. The suit itself is a dress. Can you imagine? When little sisters saw those things they would smile and think, "I want to grow up to be a princess""

Speechless, Elizabeth cuddles up to Eleanor a little bit closer. She doesn't like Eleanor's haunted voice. All her life she lived alone in a tower with the Songbird. That seemed like hell later on, especially given the nature of the tower. But never before had she thought she should count herself lucky.

At least she wasn't Black in Columbia. At least she wasn't crazy in Rapture.

She changes the subject to something a little more comforting. "Can you feel Delta now? Does he speak to you?"

Eleanor laughs. "He could never truly speak to me. He was a man of action, not words." She considers a moment. "Actually he could speak. Sort of. He made a kind of groaning sound. Like a whale really. But to answer your question, I do feel him, but we do not speak. He was never really one to offer opinions anyway, at least none that didn't involve keeping me safe at all costs. He could be single-minded like that"

"He reminds me of the person who raised me"

"Oh? Were you raised by a semi-mechanical creature that couldn't talk and had a penchant for killing people who threatened you?"

Eleanor offers the darkness a sardonic smile. The parallels are remarkably uncanny. "Actually, yes"

"Tell me about it"

Elizabeth's tale is much more complex. There are layers to it that she can't concisely explain without deviating into quantum theory, but she tries to keep it short. She talks about the Songbird, about the Lutece twins and the cult of Comstock. But mostly she talks about Booker Dewitt and his arrival to Columbia, and how his arrival triggered a series of events that eventually led to his literal unmaking. She talks about how he changed throughout their journey, and how ultimately all of the choices he made along the way were predetermined by a choice he made decades ago.

"He _sold_ you?"

"He did." Elizabeth's voice is quiet. "To pay off a debt"

"That's awful"

"He would agree with you. He tried to change his mind later, but…by then it was too late. He drowned himself in alcohol for years until Robert and Rosalind brought him to Columbia"

"I feel sorry for him"

"He was never a happy man. He might have been, before my biological mother died, or maybe before he enlisted in the army, but that was a different time"

"Do you think he redeemed himself in the end?"

"Maybe. But that's the wrong question to ask. The right one is, "Did he forgive himself in the end?"" She thinks about that often, and pauses ot consider it again now. "I don't know the answer to that one." Elizabeth reaches out for the solidity of Eleanor's knee. She squeezes it as if to reassure herself. "Wherever he is now, I wish him well"

"I thought you said you unmade him"

"Yes. I aborted him from history. But if that's really true then I shouldn't be here at all, and yet I am"

"So you think he might be out there somewhere?"

"I hope so. I hope he's happy"

"You described his fate as inevitable. Do you believe in destiny then?"

"No. I believe in the weight of my choices, and the responsibility we undertake with each one." She falters in her speech, smiling self-depreciatingly. "Although I really have no right to say that, not after what I almost did the other day"

Eleanor has nothing comforting to say about that, but she wraps her arms around Elizabeth's stomach nonetheless. She leans forward, pressing her ear to the back of Elizabeth's neck.

Elizabeth sighs. It is a comforting gesture, but she is still not forgiven. Best not to dwell on it then. No need to spoil the moment when they are feeling so close to each other.

The words occur to her immediately:

"Even after everything I've been through, I really don't know that I've learned a whole lot"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because there's so much I don't know. I don't know what I am. I don't know if events are predetermined, or if they're solely decided by the past, or maybe even in the future too. Who knows? In fact I don't know if time really has any meaning"

"That's the physicist in you talking"

Elizabeth turns around. They can't see each other in the darkness, but she tries to make their eyes meet. "I don't even know if your feelings for me are natural, or if they're induced somehow"

"Elizabeth we talked about this"

"Let me finish. I don't know if that's the case, and I realized that I don't want to. I'm just happy that you're in my life. I'm happy for whatever circumstances led you to me, no matter how messed up they may have been. I'm just…I…

"I'm pretty sure I'm in love you"

For all of five seconds there is a pregnant pause during which Eleanor at first struggles to grasp what she has just heard. The words bounce around in her head, formless and without meaning. She takes the sentence apart, and then puts it back together. _In love_ not _I love you_.

Eleanor's mind reels. Several responses occur to her at once. _You don't know what it means to be in love. You're too young to be saying things like that. How do you even know if you're in love or not?_ They whirl kaleidoscopically, being rejected and remade until only one response can adequately summarize the depth of Eleanor's emotion.

"What?"

The lights flip on. Elizabeth's big blue eyes look up at her, and with her in that state of undress it is an effort not to take a moment to drink her in, but Eleanor manages, if only for the sake of cooperating with the gravity of the room.

Elizabeth manages to look cute even while expressing contrition. "Too soon?"

Eleanor wears an expression of complete befuddlement, which soon gives way to a rational, albeit forced, exterior of calm.

"You're in love with me?"

"Yes." Elizabeth sounds surer now. She was testing the waters before. She's full on skinny-dipping now. "I love you. Do you love me too?"

On one hand, Eleanor is happy. On the other, she feels very much put-on-the-spot. Stage fright does not become her however, and she moves on instinct, pulling Elizabeth against her in an intimate flush.

"You've made me very happy just now Elizabeth, thank you"

Elizabeth says nothing, unconsciously holding her breath.

"I care for you very much. I want you in my life. But please…give me some time before I can say those words myself. It's…important to me that we wait"

More silence.

"Elizabeth?"

The younger girl nuzzles her cheek against Eleanor's breasts. "That's fine"

Eleanor sighs in audible relief.

"After all," continues Elizabeth, "I'm going to be around for a long time. It won't be any fun if we skip to all the good parts too soon"

She kisses Eleanor's nipples, having learned earlier that by doing it just so, Eleanor makes the most delicious mewling noise. The lights dim once more.

The morning sun peeks anxiously over the horizon, illuminating the room slightly in both the blue of the curtain and the yellow of the sun. They've spent the entire night talking. As Eleanor holds Elizabeth against her, slipping blissfully into rapture with mounting rapidity, she watches the sunlight peeking in through the curtains. It's true, Elizabeth will be around for a while, and the both of them will live for a very long time. Spending the dawn of the new day by quickly succumbing to her lover's advances is wholly refreshing, and Eleanor can't help but look forward to waking up like this every day. She hasn't felt this light since the day she first saw the surface.

Just because she can't say the words doesn't mean she doesn't feel them.

"_I probably love you too"_


	5. Chapter 5

~The Downfall of Evil Eleanor~

_There are windows in the moldy gaps between the less desirable timelines, and Elizabeth can see them all. She prefers not to, and if she can help it she usually doesn't have to, but sometimes her mind has a mind of its own, and it wanders when she sleeps._

_There is a London which is no less foggy than this one. The streets are just as confusing, the people are just as varied, and the price of a decent pint is just as expensive as it has ever been in a UK city. There are very few differences indeed, and out of the trillions of similarities that compose the relationship between this London and the one our Elizabeth lives in, the most disquieting is the relationship between the Elizabeth of THAT London and the Eleanor of THAT London._

_There, Eleanor never became a teacher. She did not arrive to the surface world with little sisters in tow, and she had long drowned her mother. Delta had stopped her from absorbing him, and as such she was completely alone. This would have been a pitiable circumstance, and indeed it was at the time, but unfettered by familial demands, and possessing a cracked moral compass, Eleanor went on to become a ruthless seeker of fortune. Andrew Ryan would have been proud._

_Her Bathysphere was battered by her a storm onto the shores for some temperate country, and she staggered onto its sands disoriented and dizzy for lack of water. She walked for a time, until her feet ached and her skin was mottled red by mosquito bites (every wound healed within the hour, but they hurt all the same). Too weary to pay attention to where she was going, she stepped on a landmine. Her leg was gone in a gory instant. The shock and adrenaline wasn't enough to keep her conscious while her leg struggled to heal. Men with guns arrived, drawn by the commotion, and they brought her to a camp further into the jungle._

_Angola. She had washed up in Angola, and was now recovering in an Enclave where wide-eyed men with guns gaped as her stump of a leg regurgitated meat and bone until it was whole again. Was it a rebel encampment? Or a military one? She knew little of the surface world. She bided her time until her captors grew over-curious. She was strapped to a table as a translator was brought to her room, and men pointed guns at her as she was forced to answer a series of rigorous questions. Rather than wait and see where all of this was going, Eleanor's temper ran short, and she channeled this anger into snapping the translator's neck, and then the necks of the people in the room, and then the people outside the room. And by the end of the day she had killed so many people that she could scarcely believe it once the bloody haze in her eyes had ebbed away (and her body spit out the bullets she was riddled with). She looked down at her bloody hands, and the bodies strewn about the compound, burned and frozen and swarming with bees, and she trembled in excitement. The day's violence had only barely sated her appetite._

_She drove out of there with a smile on her face, a stockpile of guns, ammo and food piled onto the backseat. Driving took some getting used to, but Eleanor learned quickly, as she always did. She traveled from one place to another, killing at the slightest provocation until she was subdued by American military forces. She escaped of course, and killed many people in the process, but it was to her credit that she spent some time learning about the surface world before simply teleporting out of her chains and letting the bullets fly._

_She soldiered for a while. As a mercenary she traveled around the world, reveling in the rush of the kill and the skill of a well-executed plan. With her brain and powers she was a natural fighter and assassin, and contracts kept finding their way to her doorstep, the pay-grade mounting with each and every job._

_Having amassed a fortune of blood money, Eleanor sought out more sedate passions, and retired to a pleasant home in New York where she tried her hand at organized crime. It was easy, if not more than a little bloody. It was an excellent learning experience in the cutthroat world of business. The players were just as irreverent as the warlords she used to deal with, but they hid behind smiles and checkbooks. Eleanor learned from these people; their language, how they dressed, and the way they stabbed each other in the back when it suited them. She developed a bloody appreciation for the way their faces dropped when they realized that no amount of money, guns, or posturing would rid her of them, or save them from her ambition._

_From there, investments were made and empires were toppled, and Eleanor found her place at the top of London's financial nexus. Living in a hotel overlooking Canary Wharf was an excellent outlet for her need to hemorrhage money, and not care in the least about doing it. What did it matter? She was on top of the world, richer by thirty than most people would ever be their entire life. The perfect Utopian had established herself in the world, and the world had bowed in submission. She had smiled as she looked down on the people below. "Like ants," Didn't quite describe how little they were in her eyes._

_And then Elizabeth happened._

_She was a junior associate at one of Eleanor's firms, and a smart one at that, but despite this she somehow managed to attract very little attention to herself. Eleanor didn't find out about her until much later. It was at the outset of the economic recession, and Eleanor was railing at her board of directors, demanding to know where her money had gone. They all kept their eyes to the table like a well-dressed array of frightened puppies. _

"_Why didn't anyone see this coming!?" She shouted, crashing her fist through the boardroom table. People flinched as splinters of glass and marble fell from her knuckles. They gaped as her hand came away unscathed. Eleanor was a cold, calculating bitch, true, but her strength and physical brutality was not common knowledge._

_The silence was palpable, and naturally no-one had the courage to answer Eleanor's demand. _

"_It was a mortgage crisis in America. There's no way we could have seen it coming"_

_The room, already silent, somehow descended several decibels lower as heads swiveled to regard the new voice. It was a young woman, practically a girl really, and she wore a serene smile as she consulted her tablet, ignoring the waves of anger that rolled blizzard-like off of Eleanor's shoulders._

"_All we can do is recoup our losses. Here," The girl walked around the table, her high-heels clacking loudly against the marble floor, distinguishing her courage (or lack of self-preservation) as she took her time. She presented the tablet to Eleanor. "A proposal"_

_Eleanor snatched the device and looked it over. She read the proposal three times in as many seconds before looking up and scrutinizing the girl. "Did you come up with this?"_

"_Yes ma'am"_

"_What department are you in?"_

"_Billing, ma'am. The only reason I'm here is because my boss thought that by bringing me, he might get in my pants"_

_Grinning, Eleanor turned her headtot the man in question. Why was he even there? She thought. He certainly wasn't important enough to be in a meeting like this. "Lucas you're fired," She said offhandedly. "You," She said nodding at Elizabeth, "You're promoted to my assistant. Want the job?"_

_Elizabeth smiled pleasantly. "Absolutely"_

"_You're starting now. Execute your plan immediately. Hadley," The CFO, "will assist you." The man sputtered, but obeyed._

_And just like that Elizabeth climbed her way into the good graces of the most powerful woman on the planet._

_~A Few Months Later~_

"_Eleanor dear." She walks with the purpose of a cat, bare feet prowling the shag carpet as she rounds the bed. Eleanor's back is to her. The businesswoman looks out the window of the hotel, watching the people circling below. She feels nothing. She ought to feel something at least, she knows she used to. Triumph. Mastery. Now she is just apathetic._

_Gentle arms circle her waist from behind. The girl is naked but for a towel, and Eleanor's arousal stirs. Apathy gives way to a sudden, urgent need, and she turns, marveling as the girl giggles and stands on her tip-toes to kiss Eleanor on the lips. Eleanor has spent months getting to know this girl and her body, but she is still a complete mystery._

_Eleanor doesn't remember being sexually attracted to women. It is a fact that rings hollow in the back of her mind. Meaningless. Why does she remember it now?_

_Elizabeth pulls her to the bed._

"_I'll be late," Eleanor says, even as she acquiesces to Elizabeth's touch._

"_You own the company. You can afford to be late"_

"_That doesn't mean, ah," Pert lips kiss their way down her neck. Slowly the buttons of her blouse are unfastened. "That doesn't mean I can just skip work whenever I please"_

"_I'm not saying that." A breath between kisses. Words to take Eleanor's will away. "But if you're truly important, they'll wait for you"_

_Well, there's no arguing with that._

_Eleanor gives in to the mounting pressure in her body; in her entirety. Just being near Elizabeth is a completion unto itself. How had she lived before Elizabeth had come into her life? Where was the meaning?_

_There had to be some meaning. Why can't she remember?_

_She shrugs her shirt off of her shoulders, pressing her muscled, naked skin against Elizabeth's. The towel slips off easily, and the warmth of the smoothness underneath is like a warm fire burning defiantly against a snowstorm. She rubs against it gently with her murderer hands, sniffing the familiar scent, breathing it in, letting it pacify her into an indolence so total that she forgets herself. She stares at the ceiling as Elizabeth pleasures her, and in its complete whiteness sees a reflection of her soul. There's nothing there. Was there ever?_

_She doesn't go to work that day. She doesn't need to. Elizabeth is right. She can afford to spend the day in bed. She can afford to spend the year in bed. All that matters is that she remains with Elizabeth._

_How foolish she had been, thinking the girl was just another pretty face wrapped around a brain that just happened to be mildly competent. Elizabeth had impressed her in the board room, and on a whim she had made her an assistant; the herald to a queen. Wherever Eleanor went, Elizabeth went, and more often than not Elizabeth seemed to know her better than she knew herself. Eleanor didn't so much as resist when the girl kissed her for the first time; it felt like fate really; something Eleanor had never put much stock in before. One moment she was confused and bewildered, the next she was passionate and loving. Her own bipolarity shocked her._

_After the lovemaking Eleanor walks to the living room, sighing as she takes a seat on the expensive leather. Hungry, she calls up room service, picking up the phone and listing her order in a stilted, detached voice. After hanging up, she watches outside the glass walls. The day is gray; overcast, and she does not relish the prospect of stepping outside._

_The doorbell rouses her from reverie. "Enter!" She calls, and a young man bustles into the room, ushering in a tray. He keeps his eyes to the ground as he arrays her order on the coffee table, just the way she has always liked it. He is new, Eleanor notices, but thinks nothing of it. As Elizabeth enters the room, also wearing nothing but a robe, he looks up at her for all of a second before his gaze darts downward._

_Big mistake._

"_Get out." She demands in a low voice. He freezes, unsure of how to react. Now he looks at her full in the eyes. "Get out!" She yells again, slamming her fist on the arm of the couch. The boy sputters in alarm as his feet suddenly leave the ground. Eleanor holds him there with her telekinesis and then throws him out into the hallway without further thought. The door slams shut, unbidden._

"_That was an overreaction"_

_Elizabeth sits down next to her, planting a kiss on her cheek. _

_It _was_ an overreaction. Eleanor can scarcely believe she had done it. Out of possessiveness? She isn't sure. She looks down at her palms and finds that they clammy with sweat. There are small cuts in her hand, minute indentations where her fingernails had dug too far into her palms. They are already starting to heal. Dry blood mixes with the sweat like watercolor. She wipes her hand on the terrycloth of Elizabeth's robes, leaving faint streaks of pink._

_What is going on with her lately? She lacks her usual zeal, her determination. Her skills and riches remain, but beyond them is an Eleanor who lacks interest in anything but Elizabeth Dewitt. What had happened? It is a question she asks herself a few times a day, whenever she gets an idle moment to let herself space out. She isn't unhappy. She just isn't herself._

_Elizabeth leans over her to grab a piece of sushi between her chopsticks, and Eleanor absentmindedly pulls her in for a kiss. The sushi drops and suspends in mid-air before it can hit the ground. The girl smiles, plucking the morsel from the air and putting it in her mouth. Eleanor's heart skips a beat._

"_What have you done to me?" She asks._

"_What do you mean?" Her tone, innocent._

"_I…" What did she mean? "I don't know"_

_Elizabeth giggles. "Are you feeling alright?"_

"_I feel fine, but…"_

"_But?"_

_The words aren't there. She can't think what she means. "I don't know. It's like there's something wrong, but I can't put my finger on it"_

"_I'm sorry baby. Are you unhappy?"_

"_No. That's the thing." She squeezes Elizabeth's hand as if to assure herself. "I'm not unhappy but…I don't know." She hangs her head in impotent exasperation. "Something just doesn't feel right" _

_Elizabeth trails her fingers along the shell of Eleanor's ear. Her disquiet vanishes as she surrenders to the soothing sensation._

"_Be calm darling"_

_And in an instant she _is_ calm. Her heart, bunched up into knots, unfurls into something more serene and formless. Eleanor un-tenses, her body relaxed._

"_What have you done to me?" Repeats Eleanor, though it is an effort to say it. Some small part of her that grasps at the frayed edges of her mind, groping for answers and finding none. _

"_Sssssshhhhhhhh"_

_Eleanor closes her eyes, enraptured by the feel of Elizabeth's fingers on her temples._

"_Don't worry about it" _

_Waves of calm wash oppressively over Elizabeth's mind, and her will falters. But she does have the wherewithal to look Elizabeth in the eye. "I love you, Elizabeth." She sounds more confused than self-assured. A drop of blood pours out of her nose and cotton fills her brain like so much insulation._

"_I know"_

"_I love you so much. I've done so many terrible things; I don't know what I did to deserve you"_

_Elizabeth smiles, and leans in for a kiss. "I love you too"_

_And Eleanor is happy, genuinely. Something feels wrong, yes, but in the arms of this girl, she is fulfilled. No amount of disquiet can take that away._

* * *

Elizabeth bolts upright in a panic, a splitting headache drills against the inside of her skull. She wakes up to the stoic darkness of Eleanor's room, the images of the dream fresh in her mind. They flash in front of her in the darkness like the lights under her eyelids. She groans in pain. Eleanor stirs beside her. Elizabeth immediately stills. Thankfully the professor does not wake. Elizabeth caresses the woman's hair and shoulder, before getting out of bed and tip-toeing to the bathroom.

She switches on the light. Her eyes register with pain, and she braces herself against the cold porcelain of the sink in case she throws up. She doesn't, thankfully, but the nausea remains. She opens the medicine cabinet, and retrieves a bottle of aspirin. She's about to fill a glass with water when she pauses. "Oh yeah," She puts everything back. She closes her eyes, exerting her will over her own reality. The pain fades away, and in seconds she feels fine. "Forgot I could do that," She mumbles to herself.

She's about to slip back into bed when she recalls her dream. The evil Eleanor, and the arguable eviler Elizabeth. She feels sick all over again, but in a different way. She doesn't feel like cuddling next to her girlfriend right now. It wouldn't feel…right.

So Elizabeth makes her way out of the room, and eventually finds herself stepping curiously toward the illuminated doorway of the Lamb family den. The lights are out in the room, but it is nonetheless lit by the shifting colors of an impressively massive flat-screen that dominates most of the far wall.

"Oy! Elizabeth"

Startled at being called out, Elizabeth calls back. "Yeah?"

"Join us!"

She steps into the room. Whatever was playing is put on pause as Sasha and Neha look up at her.

"Are you okay? You look a little shaken"

"Yeah, I just had a bad dream"

"Ugh, I get those. Want some tea? That usually helps calm me down"

"You don't mind?"

"Nah, it's cool. Hold on a bit"

At first it was awkward being around the Lamb family. Isn't it always with in-laws? She felt like an intruder on this sacred space where there had been such a rich history of shared memories and inside jokes. Thankfully they thought this endearing, and welcomed Elizabeth into their fold. Five years later and she is practically one of them.

This isn't to say that they do things that throw her for a loop every now and then. Case and point: she has just walked in on Sasha and Neha as they are marathoning their favorite TV show. They haven't slept all night, and are fueling themselves with soda and energy drinks. Their silliness is amusing enough to induce calm.

Sipping the tea Neha has prepared for her, Elizabeth raises an eyebrow at their strange program. They are halfway through an episode. "So wait, he just goes through time and space fixing problems and helping people?"

"It's a little more complicated than that, but, yeah, that's pretty much the gist of it"

"I can't believe you've never seen it Elizabeth, this show is, like, ridiculously popular"

"She's American Neha. It's not as big over there"

"Bullshit. It's huge over there. I've made American friends at cons just because they liked it"

Sasha rolls her eyes. "What do you think, Elizabeth?"

"It's…good, but confusing"

"It's like that at first, but you have to watch it at the beginning"

"She's not going to go all the way back to the episodes made in the 60s," Says Sasha sarcastically, "You can start with the ninth doctor…or do I mean the tenth?"

They talk like this for hours, with Elizabeth letting their friendly antagonistic banter calm her nerves. It's like the first days she spent in the flat with Robert and Rosalind, letting their bickering create a sense of normalcy in an otherwise unorthodox life. And when the girls stop talking, Elizabeth still feels warm and welcome, and she watches their silly show with them until they both fall asleep.

"I didn't know you liked this show"

Eleanor is standing behind her, apparently having teleported in when Elizabeth wasn't paying attention.

"You sisters just introduced me to it"

Eleanor frowns at the softly snoring forms of Sasha and Neha. "I keep telling them not to stay up this late"

"They're dedicated fans"

"If they spent as much time looking for a job as they spent watching frivolous TV shows…"

"Sit with me"

Eleanor does, grumbling all the while that her sisters have no propriety, but she stays silent for the remainder of the episode.

"You know," She says as the credits roll, "you kind of remind me of the Doctor"

"Seriously?"

"Oh yeah. Mastery of time and space; doesn't that sound the least bit familiar? All you need to do is get a police box and a bowtie…"

Elizabeth makes a show of rolling her eyes, pulling away from her girlfriend just a bit so that the older woman can see her disapproval.

"Very funny"

"You could go around righting wrongs, and I could be your companion! I already have superpowers so-"

Elizabeth stops her with a kiss. "Hush"

Momentarily surprised, Eleanor smiles. But the smile fades, leaving a concerned expression. "Are you okay? I You weren't there when I woke up"

"I had a nightmare"

"Do you want to tell me about it?"

Elizabeth's first instinct is to keep it to herself. She quashes this thought.

"It wasn't really a dream. At least I don't think so. Sometimes…sometimes I see other universes when I sleep, or when I daydream. The one I saw just now was frightening"

"How?"

"You were in it"

"I was?"

"Well, not you exactly. Another version of you. You were evil"

"An evil me?" Eleanor laughs. "Did evil me have a black goatee?"

"I'm serious. She was just…different. Damaged. She had very little morals and killed a lot of people"

"And that was your nightmare?" Asks Eleanor, "An evil me?"

"No. It was me. I was in the nightmare too"

"Were you evil?"

"Kind of. She was similar to me; she liked reading, and art, and code-breaking…" She trails off. "But she was so different from me"

"How?"

"She controlled you. It's liked she reached inside your past and changed it so that you would love her, and when that wasn't enough she reached inside your mind and changed _that_. Evil you was hard to sympathize for, but I swear I felt sorry for her. When I woke up I still felt what it was like to twist a person like that. I almost threw up"

"Hey," Eleanor wipes the tears out of Elizabeth's eyes, "That wasn't you"

"But it could have been! That Elizabeth didn't think she was doing anything wrong"

"Well you clearly wouldn't do that, so don't worry about it"

"But I did do it! By accident! I-!"

"Hey, hey," Eleanor teleports them back to the bedroom before they can wake up Sasha and Neha. "I thought we were past this"

"I- we are. But saying it is one thing and-"

"Doing it is another." Eleanor pulls Elizabeth close, planting a kiss on her forehead. "I know you would never do that to me. Not purposefully anyway. I love you without you having to having to make me"

"I know. I know, but…"

"Come on. We're fine, right?"

"Yeah"

"_I love you so much. I've done so many terrible things; I don't know what I did to deserve you"_

Elizabeth pulls away violently.

"Beth? You okay?"

"Y-yeah. I just-" She must breathe. Take deep breaths. In. Out. Become calm. Keep breathing. Eleanor's expression is all worry, lacking the happiness it held seconds before. "I-I'm sorry. Can you just hold me for now?"

Eleanor seems confused, but acquiesces with a smile. "Yeah. I think I can manage that"

Elizabeth snuggles into Eleanor's protective embrace, burying herself in the smell and feel of her girlfriend. She sleeps, and thankfully does not dream.

* * *

"You may be wondering why I invited you here"

"The thought did occur to me, yes"

"I usually abhor the shopping mall, as well you know"

"Yes. You made it quite clear last week when you lectured that young man about his choice of t-shirt"

Rosalind's back goes straighter, something Eleanor hardly thought possible. "If he chooses to wear stylistic iconography for the sake of fashion then he should know what ideals he is espousing by his wearing them. Honestly, young people these days. They wear the face of a communist revolutionary on their chests and don't even know why"

"Yes, I'm sure Che Guevarra is turning in his grave"

"You're being sarcastic with me"

"The boy was barely twenty Rosalind, and you embarrassed him in front of all his friends. And you wonder why the students don't like you"

"I'm not there to please them. I'm there to educate them. If they want to believe in something, then they should find their ideals someplace other than a shopping mall"

"Which brings us back to your original point. Why are we here?" Rosalind stops walking, and after one more step Eleanor follows suit. "What? What is it?"

"We're here"

They stand before the glaring glass windows of a flashy clothing outlet, inside of which is trendy women's wear draped on the frames of slender manikins and folded onto boxlike platforms, arranged around centerpieces that serve no distinguishable purpose. It is exactly the sort of place Eleanor dreads, and she holds fast to Rosalind's arm in desperation.

"You can't be serious"

The other woman looks on, determined. "I am. Elizabeth has always been insufferable about my old-fashioned choice of clothing, and Robert's recent embrasure of modern fashion has only increased the pressure for me to adapt"

"Why on earth did you bring _me_? My taste isn't much better than yours. For god's sake I only have two pairs of shoes"

Rosalind looks at her, lifting an eyebrow as if to say _Isn't it obvious_? "I have to do this on my terms, and if I were to bring Elizabeth then that would be a concession that she is right and I am wrong. And I can't really bring Robert because that would just be embarrassing"

"So I'm here because of, what, exactly? Pride?"

"Partly. You're also here because in you I have a fellow comrade in terrible taste. I will embarrass myself in there, yes, but at least I will not be alone"

"What are you talking abou- gah!"

Rosalind has already teleported them seamlessly into the shop. Loud music plays, making it a bit difficult for Eleanor to hear much of anything. But as her ears become accustomed to the noise, she is horrified to hear Rosalind call out to one of the shop girls.

"Excuse me, you there, young lady. My friend and I need stylish clothes. Be a dear and fetch us some would you? Price is not an issue"

Not ten minutes later Eleanor is cursing the heavens as she slumps on one of the benches outside Rosalind's dressing room. A pile of clothes lies in an orderly pile at her side, and to Eleanor's chagrin, it is all meant for her. The attendant was nauseatingly pleased to point that out. Luckily, Rosalind hads volunteered to try on her clothes first.

Madame Lutece steps out of the dressing room, and Eleanor gapes.

The older woman says something.

"What?"

Rosalind repeats herself.

"What!? The music is too loud!" A speaker is, in fact, placed right at the entrance of the dressing rooms.

Frustrated, Rosalind speaks again, raising her voice, but to no avail.

"Hold on," Says Eleanor.

Closing her eyes, she searches the store, invisible tendrils of thought-stuff extending from her mind that lap and lick at every thing and object. Finally she finds the speakers hanging from the ceiling. Grasping their components with her mind, Eleanor grips them from the inside, and _twists_. The entire store falls into sudden silence as sparks tumble out of every previously pristine speaker.

"Ah," Says Rosalind, "that's much better. You have such useful talents"

"I try"

"With that out of the way," Rosalind twirls robotically, "what do you think?"

"I'm…not sure those clothes are meant to go together"

"What are you talking about?"

"Well for one, I'm not certain that you're supposed to wear more than one blouse at a time"

Rosalind peels back one of the long sleeves along her arm. "But if I don't wear them then there will be only two layers of clothes between my naked body and the rest of the world"

"If you hadn't noticed, that's how most people manage these days"

"So what do you suggest?"

"I don't know. Maybe try it with only one shirt, the jeans, and maybe a jacket? Or the skirt. You see a lot of skirts nowadays"

"Certainly not. These aren't skirts, but oversized napkins"

"Then try on a dress"

"These dresses have no sleeves! And this one has a plunging neckline"

"The idea is to look sexy, Rosalind"

"Bah! As if I have the time to worry about such things." Nevertheless, she turns around and marches back into the dressing room. This time she speaks from within. "How are things with you and Elizabeth?"

"I'm….not certain how comfortable I am discussing that with you"

"Nonsense! You're practically family"

"Hence the discomfort"

"Oh come now. There must be something. If you'd like, I can start us off by telling you about my issue with Robert's over-baking"

"No, that…that won't be necessary. Um….well actually there is something"

"See? I knew it." Rosalind once more steps out from the dressing room. "What do you think?"

"I don't know if those colors go well together"

"Purple and orange? Why not"

"Just take my word for it"

"Ugh." She retreats back into the changing room. "Anyway, you were speaking about Elizabeth"

"Uh, yeah. Have you noticed anything strange about her lately? Like, has she been distant at all?"

"I don't think so. Though she has been spending more time at the house. Ever since you two got together she's practically moved into your mansion, but lately that's changed. Why do you ask?"

"I just get the feeling that she's been avoiding me lately"

"Why do you suppose that is?"

"It's something to do with these visions she's been having. But she won't talk to me about them. I'm not sure if they're upsetting her or if she just can't control them, but…I just wish she'd let me help her"

"And how does that make me feel?"

"Powerless"

"I can sympathize. Helping Elizabeth has always been difficult, whether she wants your help or not." Once more she steps out from the curtain. "What about now?"

"Yeah…I don't think we're quite getting this fashion thing"

"Well then you try something on"

"What!?"

"You heard me. If I can't do it then it's your turn to try"

"Rosalind, I'm _terrible_ at this stuff. I'll be ever worse than you"

"Come on now," Says Rosalind, grabbing Elizabeth's arm in one hand and a bunched fistfull of Elizabeth's clothes in the other, "You never know until you try"

"No!"

"Stop struggling!"

"_Eleanor_!?"

Both women pause at the sound of that high-pitched exclamation, and turn to see one of Eleanor's little sisters with her hands clasped over her mouth in surprise. Eleanor shakes with mild embarrassment.

"Nadia?"

"Bollocks, it _is_ you. Are you trying on _clothes_?"

"We are!" Interjects Rosalind. "And we're in sore need of help"

"Rosalind, no!"

"Too late!" Screams Nadia, eyes gleaming with triumph, her cellphone already in hand. In seconds a series of text messages are sent throughout the city, and the ravens gather. Their quarry, trembling in Rosalind's arms, forgets, if only for a moment, all her personal troubles, and quavers as the sound of her sisters' stampeding approach can be heard, unmistakably, in the distance.

Today Eleanor Lamb gets a new wardrobe.

* * *

_~The Green Eyes in the Mirror~_

_Elizabeth glares at herself in the mirror, paying special attention to her green eyes. They aren't like regular eyes. Regular eyes are multi-faceted, composed of so many tendrils of pigment that are never quite uniform. Elizabeth's eyes are pure green, like the plain underside of a leaf, and no matter what she does, she cannot change this._

_She heaves a world-weary sigh. The color of her eyes is a reminder of a mistake made long ago, and looking at them in the mirror is exhausting; mental self-flagellation. She grimaces at the odd comparison, but cannot help appreciating it. These are feelings unworthy of a god._

_Okay, perhaps that moniker is a bit self-serving. She isn't sure what she is, but "god" seems the closest approximation._

"_Or Goddess, but that somehow seems a little conceited, doesn't it?"_

_Elizabeth turns, narrowing her eyes at the new arrival. "It isn't polite to pry into others' thoughts"_

"_Hypocrite"_

_Elizabeth turns again to look at her reflection, pointedly not looking at the other person in the room. "Not at all, not when the thoughts I read matter so little to me"_

"_Even my thoughts?"_

"_I don't read your thoughts"_

"_I suppose I should be grateful"_

"_I just don't want to see whatever perversions lurk in your head"_

"_Oh?" Hands trail along Elizabeth's sides, softly applying pressure through the green robe she is wearing; a product of the universe she is currently in. Green eyes meet green eyes, and Elizabeth glares at her doppelganger in the mirror, leaning over her. They look exactly alike, she and her, though the most notable similarity is the dull green of their eyes. The doppelganger smirks at her. "I thought you liked it when I shared my perversions with you"_

_Elizabeth watches as her double runs her tongue, wet and warm, down Elizabeth's neck. She shudders, not really at the sensuality of it, but the intimacy. But she violently shrugs the other Elizabeth away, wiping off the trail of saliva on her neck. "Gross," She mutters. The doppelganger chuckles, as if at a private joke._

"_Not now," Elizabeth chides._

"_If not now, when?"_

"_The twins are coming"_

"_You can stop time. Hell, I can stop time"_

"_They'll still know"_

"_Why do you care so much?"_

"_Just leave"_

"_**Who are you talking to?"**_

_The twins' arrival does not surprise her, though as usual the instantaneous departure of her other self leaves her shaken. Nevertheless she schools the totality of her expression._

"_No-one"_

"_It certainly sounded like you were talking to someone," Says Robert. He is dressed in an olive-green tunic the likes of which might have been described in an old fantasy novel. His arms are left bare, and a dagger is affixed to his belt. He looks ridiculous, and he has expressed this sentiment numerous times, though any discomfort he may actually feel is hidden behind his typical disaffection._

"_Something we should know about?" Asks Rosalind. She wears a robe like Elizabeth's, though there are several layers added to it for the sake of modesty, or so Rosalind has claimed upon their application. _

_After spending centuries with these two Elizabeth has learned to read their intent, even without daring to glimpse into their thoughts (something she will never try again, not after the last disaster three hundred years ago when she spared a stray glimpse into Rosalind's subconscious). She takes one last look in the mirror, and for a brief moment her reflection smiles without her having smiled at it. To this she sneers in annoyance._

"_How go your inquiries?" Asks Elizabeth, sidestepping the Luteces' questions with practiced fluidity. The twins don't even look at each other as they shrug in unison._

"_They go"_

"_This universe suffers from a shortage of natural philosophers"_

"_Not enough people question the order of things"_

"_And why the order must be the way it is"_

"_Terribly boring really"_

"_Though in all fairness, if I lived in a nightmare world with monsters and magic like this one, I too would lack philosophic inquiry" _

"_Indeed. If the fairie in the next country over has the power to decimate the populace on a whim, then a shortage of proper scientists is the least of their problems"_

_Elizabeth nods. They had arrived in this universe only one month prior, and since then they had been accosted by all manner of monsters, bandits, and warring factions; more than any world should ever play host to. Still, they had decided to remain, if only because of their fascination with magic which, in this world, was a reality. Fantasy realm indeed. At least they hadn't been unfortunate enough to bump into a fairie, or rather Robert and Rosalind hadn't. Elizabeth had already met quite a few, though lucky for her she is built for such encounters._

_With a curt glance out the window Elizabeth rises._

"_Hold down the fort. I'll be back before nightfall"_

_The twins acquiesce, plodding wearily to the kitchen to prepare the tea. Robert removes minute quantities of leaves from a tin. As he places the lid back on, the tin refills with a sort of scratching sound. Elizabeth isn't sure how the device works. When she asked the man at the shop from which the tin was procured, he had smiled mysteriously and said "Magic." "Yes, but how does it work?" Elizabeth asked. He frowned at her, and she left the shop dissatisfied. _

"_Tea, Elizabeth?"_

_Elizabeth shakes her head, walking to the door. She grabs an overcoat off the hook and leaves. "I'll be back before nightfall"_

_~Elsewhere~_

_Elizabeth sits cross legged in the grass and assumes a meditative mien. She breathes, expanding her awareness. The wind ruffles her hair, whipping annoyingly against her face. She breathes, scrunching her eyebrows. Tranquility does not come easily. It occurs to her that her lips are chapped. She loses her concentration as the wind bursts with particular intensity, reaching in between the fibers of her coat, and through the threads of her dress. _

_Before her lies a vast valley in green, mountains clustered in a circle at the base of which is a pristine lake, fed by ice-water trickling down from frozen peaks that seem to extend a mile toward the sky, dribbling water into waterfalls that catch the light of the sun as it cascades into the valley. The air is thin, cold, and biting._

"_What are you doing here, mortal?"_

_Elizabeth does not open her eyes, nor does she acknowledge the woman who is addressing her, though internally she stamps her feet. _Not again!_ Breathe in, breathe out. Feel yourself between the between places. Breeeeathe. Stay calm._

"_Answer me"_

_The words resonate with power, echoing across the entire valley. For a moment, the wind stops blowing and the earth itself trembles in warning. An avalanche sounds overhead, but it isn't visible from where they are._

_Elizabeth sighs._

"_You are interrupting my meditation, fairie"_

_Elizabeth opens her eyes to the vision of a woman so unrealistically beautiful that she looks like she has been designed for a video game. The woman regards her curiously, crossing her arms over breasts so perfect that greatest poetry in the world could not adequately describe them. She wears something that could be called a robe, though unlike the one Elizabeth is wearing it has so many indecent openings that it covers her private parts only incidentally. Her hair is dark and vivid, and where it is particularly voluminous, Elizabeth swears she can see stars._

"_Who are you to make demands of me?"_

"_Just a woman looking for some peace and quiet"_

_If the fairie is affronted by Elizabeth's flippancy she doesn't show it. She cocks her head to the side. "Well aren't you an interesting one"_

"_Thank you. By now most other fairies would have tried blasting me away for insolence"_

_The fairie grins at that, charmed. Her gigawat smile is prettier than the sunrise. "Of all the few things we fey suffer, insolence is the one for which we are least tolerant"_

"_So I have found. The lady Galatea especially did not take kindly to my taciturn nature, and attempted to freeze me solid"_

_The woman's laughter rings like bells tied to the ankles of a unicorn. A man could hear that laugh and spend his life pining for nothing else. "That sounds like her. How is it you still live?"_

"_I managed. Just as I did when Kasnia threw star-gas at my feet, and when Puck struck me with his thousand-edged sword. Apparently I cannot meditate in peace without a fairie being offended by my silence"_

"_Puck's sword really only has seventy-three edges. He just thinks the "thousand" makes it sound impressive. He's terribly insecure, behind all the japery." The fairie kneels next to her. Wildflowers sprout vibrant around them where her knees touch. "What manner of sorceress are you? I confess, I must be terribly uninformed these days to not have heard of one as powerful as you. We haven't seen the like in centuries"_

_For not trying to blast her to smithereens, Elizabeth returns the fairie's smile. "I am nobody, and certainly no mistress. Just an inquisitive soul"_

"_Are you a philosopher? They are usually the only ones who seek me out this far into the wild country"_

"_Seeking your knowledge I suspect. I…I am a philosopher, of a sort. Tell me, has a philosopher ever asked you about your thoughts on the nature of magic?"_

_The fairie laughs again. "Countless times! It's what they ask me most often. That, and proposals of marriage"_

"_And what do you tell them?"_

"_Well, I say that they will be worthy of my love only if they pass the ten trials of Titania, and after that, only if they can prove their love to me in the trial of genuineness, which is rigged, incidentally"_

"_No, I meant about the nature of magic"_

"_Oh." Titania considers, pouting in adorable disappointment. "I suppose I usually say that magic is an unknowable force, as powerful as the other forces that conduct the laws of this world, but a fair bit more capricious"_

"_Where does you knowledge of magic come from? Do you study it?_

"_I just know it innately,. Like a tree is aware of the air and sunlight, so too am I aware of magic. I am a magical creature after all"_

"_Well the other fey are also magical creatures but I don't think they know even half as much as what you just told me"_

"_Take care what you say about my people," Titania says warningly._

_Elizabeth doesn't get many opportunities to befriend fey, and demurs. "I apologize, but on the whole your people have been most ungracious to me, and I am not inclined towards forgiveness"_

_The fairie glares at her, and the strength of that glare is enough to reduce Elizabeth to tears. She can actually feel the force of Titania's power like a million knives into her body. But Elizabeth just sighs, accepting the pain and reducing it to nothing, dissipating the force into the ether between worlds._

_Titania draws closer, and suddenly her presence isn't oppressive, but intoxicating. Arousal hits Elizabeth like it has never hit her before, and she swings so dangerously close to having an orgasm that a small part of her is unsettled. But this too, Elizabeth dissipates._

"_Now I'm even more interested in you," Says Titania. She trails her fingertips along Elizabeth's collarbone, sending tingles throughout her body, and now Elizabeth's self-control teeters, and before she can void Titania's power the fairie kisses her passionately on the lips. And now Elizabeth does orgasm, to her complete surprise._

_Titania giggles. "Now that got a rise out of you"_

"_Oh god," Elizabeth murmurs, clutching the fairie's shoulders. Her skin is smooth and so very perfect. "How are you so powerful?"_

"_Do not speak lover," Says Titania, overwhelming Elizabeth in sensation, reaching into her robes…_

_And then Elizabeth clutches the fairie's shoulders, tight. Tight enough for her to feel a modicum of pain for the first time in her life._

_And Elizabeth looks into Titania's eyes, eyes that are coloring black with glee. Elizabeth's eyes flash a vibrant emerald, before dulling to their usual green._

"_Get away from her!" She demands, pushing Titania away. The fairie recovers quickly, muscles bunching powerfully before she can actually fall, and then assuming a more ladylike softness._

"_Multiple personalities? How amusing." Titania advances once again, moving faster than the wind. But before she can get close Elizabeth, or rather her doppelganger, teleports their body away._

_~Elsewhere~_

_To her knowledge Elizabeth is the only version of herself as powerful as she is. There are Eliabeths out there who can at least make tears, and there are a handful who have ascended to a level of godhood comparable to her own, though not quite. She used to be one of those Elizabeths in fact, until she absorbed another version of herself into her personality._

_That was a miscalculation on her part. While out exploring a particular universe (it had been so unremarkable that it barely sticks to memory), Elizabeth had stumbled upon that universe's version of herself. It was a rookie mistake, and before Elizabeth could teleport away the girl had grabbed onto her, starry-eyed with fascination. She had teleported with her. After that, the girl had stuck to her like socks to Velcro._

_Elizabeth hadn't thought about what such a meeting would entail, but it wasn't totally unpleasant. Though the other Elizabeth was tedious at times (with all of her questions! Ugh!) she was at least pleasant company. Thankfully they had very different personalities, and learned much from one another._

_Elizabeth had intended to stick around only for a month., she hadn't thought that prolonged exposure to another version of herself would result in fusion._

_And so she woke up one day and found that she had green eyes, and a second personality. Two minds in one vessel. They grew exponentially more powerful. They lived that Elizabeth's life for a while, and when everyone in her life died of old age, they moved on. If the Luteces thought anything of the longer stay, they said nothing. _

_Never had Elizabeth (or the pair of Elizabeths) ever encountered a being as powerful as Titania._

_They teleport into an abandoned fort, dreary old stone stagnating in the undergrowth, slowly being overtaken. They appear in a section of the building that has collapsed into itself, admitting sunlight that streams through the trees._

_Elizabeth breathes heavily, and in her mind her doppelganger is too, next to her, leaning on her for support, as if she were actually there as well._

"_What was that?"_

"_What?"_

"_You're into her!"_

_Elizabeth calms herself before rising to her doppelganger's bait. She's mad. It's like dealing with a nagging spouse sometimes. She employs a diversion tactic that has always worked on the double before: abruptly changing the subject._

"_You were controlling my body. I was under her spell and you took control. You've never done that before"_

"_I don't know how I did it! I just…reacted"_

"_Interesting. I always thought we were just the same mind with two different aspects…but this seems to indicate that we are altogether more apart than we realized"_

_The double gapes. "Now isn't the time to be theorizing Elizabeth!"_

"_Indeed. Titania is following us. She can sense us from that far? What a remarkable creature"_

"_So you __**are into her? **__You admit it"_

_Jealousy? How…surreal. "Don't tell me you're not." Suddenly Titania appears before them in a rush of autumn leaves, gusts of power bearing her forth. Her placid expression has been replaced with a face of pure animalistic lust. Elizabeth summons her power; near omniscient. Titania is strong, but even she can be tamed. Elizabeth can do anything._

_Anything? Asks the other Elizabeth from within her mind._

_With you by my side, anything is possible._

_Back in reality the double grimaces at the fey queen. The double bolsters Elizabeth's power with her own in preparation. She isn't sure if she's preparing herself for a fight or for sex. "She's…attractive, I'll give you that"_

"_Don't lie to me now. I can read your thoughts"_

_Titania rushes forth, and Elizabeth lifts a calm palm to resist her…_

* * *

"You've been staring at that drawing for thirty minutes now"

The sound startles her, but she regains her bearings in an instant, as if she weren't mesmerized in the first place. Sophia frowns, and makes no effort to hide it.

"You needn't keep up appearances for me, child"

"Force of habit"

Sophia leans over to peak at Elizabeth's drawing. "That is a beautiful picture, if a bit steamy for my tastes. Did you make it?" The sketchpad in Elizabeth's lap exhibits a near perfect rendering of Queen Titania; even in colorless graphite she is breathtaking. "Beautiful and yet…feral"

Elizabeth does not remember drawing the picture, though she must have. Her hand is still dusty from pencil shavings.

"How long have I been sitting like this?"

"About thirty minutes or so. I've been watching you." She says it nonchalantly, as if that weren't an alarming thing to admit. "It's quite interesting. Do you do this often?"

It's pointless to lie to Sophia. Elizabeth learned that a long time ago. "Only about once a month, when I dream, and when I space out, which is rare"

"Does Eleanor know?"

"We sleep in the same bed. Of course she knows"

"She worries about you"

"And I love her for that, but fluttering about like I'm a china doll on stilts won't make me feel any better"

"My, you're testy"

Elizabeth deflates. "Never mind. I'm…sorry if I was short with you"

Sophia laughs. "My girl, the last thing you need to be around me is oversensitive." She looks at Elizabeth with unnerving fondness. "When will I get to see the rest of your sketchbook?"

Elizabeth clutches at the thing, and immediately regrets it. In gripping the book tighter she has betrayed an insecurity, and Sophia has most definitely taken note. Elizabeth will never show her the drawings in the book; the stuff of her dreams and alternate selves are not for the likes of Sophia Lamb to peruse. The only one who is allowed in Eleanor, but that will only be when Elizabeth screws up the courage to tell her she's allowed.

Why hadn't she already?

"Well, I'll leave that for another time. You know you really oughtn't be so guarded around me"

Elizabeth considers saying something careful; even-minded. But Sophia isn't the sort to appreciate that sort of thing. "Shouldn't I? You're a veritable sociopath"

Sophia chuckles. "Unconfirmed. And even so, I'm not a threat to you. I quite like you in fact. Don't mistake my teasing for cruelty, and know you can talk to me about anything and everything. Especially those things you don't care to discuss with my daughter"

This time Elizabeth does not stiffen, but only because she remembers not to. "I won't deny it. There are certain things we don't tell each other, but that's normal in a relationship"

"It is. But it isn't always healthy"

"I suppose you've done your fair share of couples' counseling," Bites Elizabeth sarcastically.

"Ha! You would be surprised. Before moving to Rapture I dabbled in just about every psychiatric field I could manage." She sighs, "Oh I was so young then. Wide-eyed. The world was my oyster. Pity I squandered my future by going underwater, entertaining fantasies of Utopia." She looks to Elizabeth, smiling devilishly, "But we were talking about you dear, not me"

"I can't deflect anything with you, can I?"

"Indeed not. Come dear girl, talk to your Auntie Sophia"

After shuddering at the unsettling moniker, Elizabeth lapses into a contemplative silence, uncomfortably aware of Sophia's microscopic stare. Finally: "Eleanor has been talking to you hasn't she?"

"As you said, she worries"

Its Elizabeth's turn to sigh. "Where is she?"

"Don't act like you already know"

Finally Elizabeth smiles. She doesn't say thank you, but nods appreciatively one second, and disappears the next.

* * *

Long days are exercises in monotony. Teaching is a joy, but sometimes it becomes tedious with the repetition; the recitation of the same old theorems and lessons. Often the students make up for this, with their wide-eyed enthusiasm, but today they are as responsive as rocks. An unengaging classroom is enervating to say the least.

Eleanor wastes no time teleporting to her house after the last class, passing up her usual stroll around the city. Work eludes her, not because she doesn't want to do it, but because recent preoccupations make it difficult for inspiration to strike.

Will Elizabeth be at her home? It is unlikely. She hasn't been over in a week, and Eleanor suspects it has a lot to do with the mounting frequency of her little dreaming spells. She talks about them a little bit, snippets of universes that might have been and the Elizabeth's that lived there, but never anything concrete.

Her teleportation is not the seamless process it is for Elizabeth. She disappears in a purple cloud of entropic particles, and reappears in that same cloud, now in her home office. For all of a second she cannot see beyond the purple; but it is a short moment, and Eleanor's senses are very acute, nevertheless, it is enough for her not to notice Elizabeth sitting quite placidly in her armchair. She is still, so still as to become one with the dusky shade of the room, and Eleanor doesn't see her.

She puts down all her bags, letting each one slide off her arms into a series of dulls thumps on the wooden floor. She empties her pockets onto her desk. Only when she takes off her coat and makes to throw it onto the coatrack does she notice her girlfriend watching her from the corner. Eleanor jumps, startled, making a garbled noise of surprise before letting her coat fall from her fingers. Elizabeth is smiling.

The older woman teleports to the younger's side, sweeping her up into an angry hug. A hug turns to kisses, rough along Elizabeth's face. The smaller woman laughs, pretending at helplessness as Eleanor lifts her into the air, angry and happy at the same time; angry at being startled, happy that her girlfriend is, for once, there.

Then, disapproval. Elizabeth receives a bap on the shoulder.

"Where have you been! I haven't seen you all week!"

"Sorry, I've had a lot to think about"

"That's never a good sign," She says jokingly. But this is Elizabeth, and Eleanor has to remind herself that she's angry. She lets her hurt show in her expression. Genuine exhaustion makes her posture sag. "I thought we were past you pulling stunts like this"

"It was only a week, not several months"

"Elizabeth!"

"Sorry," Elizabeth says, genuinely contrite, eyes downcast. "Sorry. That was thoughtless of me to say. It's no excuse, but I really have had a lot on my mind." She looks up at Eleanor with puppy-dog eyes, wide in an unspoken "Forgive me?"

"It's the visions isn't it? You've been having more of them"

"Yes"

Eleanor's face twists in sympathetic pain, before resolving into an exasperated kind of anger. "Why-" She begins, reconsiders, "Why wouldn't you just…talk to me about this?"

"I can't come to you with every problem I have"

"But you can! I'm here for you!" She cups gently Elizabeth's cheek, a gesture at odds with her urgent tone. She lowers her voice. "I'll always be here for you, don't you know that?"

The warmth of Eleanor's hand is an anchor, mooring Elizabeth to the present. She becomes still, savoring that warmth. "Yeah. Yeah I do." A pause. "I forget that sometimes"

Eleanor does not wear perfume or cologne or any kind of deodorant. This isn't to say she smells bad; perhaps it's a side-effect of the Adam, but she always smells uniquely …herself. Pulled into Eleanor's arms, Elizabeth struggles to pinpoint the menagerie of scents; dust, smoke, fresh-printed paper, BO and ozone. Whatever the components, the overall scent has a calming effect, and Elizabeth sighs into it, as if she were sinking into a warm bath.

What can Eleanor say now?

_You're so difficult, but I love you anyway. Please don't do this to me again._

_If you need space all you need to do is tell me. Don't just avoid me for a week._

_What the hell is up with you lately?_

She can't manage the words. She isn't sure what to say. But she knows Elizabeth, and if she's here now, then Eleanor won't have to do any of the talking: Elizabeth will do it for her.

The great thing about her girlfriend is that, even when she makes mistakes, she always does the right thing given time. And now, as Elizabeth pulls away from her, Eleanor recognizes that look, the look she gets whenever she's ready to confront her problems; the look she wore when she admitted that she had seen them together in the tear, that look she wore when she said she wanted to be with Eleanor, and the look she wore when she admitted that she might have subconsciously influenced Eleanor's mind.

There it is again, and Eleanor is scared, despite herself.

Elizabeth breathes. In. Out. There is always comfort in breathing, precisely because she doesn't need to do it.

"I'm afraid," She says.

"Of what?"

"When we first escaped Columbia the twins made it so that I couldn't…perceive…to the extent that I can. They made it so that rather than see reality as a tapestry, I could only see it as a single thread, like everyone else. They limited me." Breathe. In. Out. "That made it easier for me to live an ordinary life. I can sustain it myself now, and I because of it I don't have to bear the burden of knowing what will happen, or what might have been. It's a mystery to me as much as it is you.

"But I slip up sometimes. Sometimes I open up a tear despite myself And lately I've been having these visions. Many of them can be upsetting. But they aren't terrible. I can manage my feelings about them. But with every vision I have, the more I think about where my life is going, Where…_we_ are going"

She reaches for Eleanor's hand.

"I know reality as intimately as the back of my hand, but even I don't know what will happen to me in the long run. I may well live on for millennia. Maybe forever. Maybe, someday, when all the stars in the multiverse have collapsed, me and the many versions of me will meet in one location, fixed in every dimensional transect, and we will become one. Only then, perhaps, will I be able to truly understand _everything_"

She clenches Eleanor's hand now. Her voice wavers, but does not shake.

"When I think about that, I start thinking of you. What does my life mean, ultimately, if at its infancy you must die? I don't want that to happen. I don't want you to leave me"

"Elizabeth, death is-"

"Death is nothing. Not to me. I have lived an infinite number of lives, and countless versions of me have lived on for centuries, even millennia, and those are only the ones with restrained powers. The ones that are fully-developed, like me, they _don't_ die. I look into their futures and I don't see an end. Just one long, lonely horizon, extending forever.

"This current me, the one you see before you; I'm lucky enough to be grounded in this world, with you as my companion, but I don't know if I'm capable of death, and I don't want to know what my future holds. I'm scared to look, so I haven't, because if I look, then maybe I'll see…maybe I'll see a future without you in it.

"I can't imagine that. That's why I've been letting down my mental barrier, letting myself see other versions of myself; little vignettes of their live, just to reassure myself that emptiness isn't all I have to look forward to. But so many of them seem lost, lonely…

"So I've been thinking…" She looks into Eleanor's eyes, trying with all her might to instill in this gaze some of the urgency she feels. "I…was planning to ask you this much later actually, but I've been thinking…"

"What?"

"What if I made you…like me?"

The rooms beats to the unspoken profundity of an invisible metronome, a heartbeat in the stillness of entirety. This is a crossroads between dimensions, and for just a second Eleanor can see in Elizabeth's eyes infinitesimal glimpses of the universe; the possibilities universes she may be creating right now just by not yet having chosen how to answer. It is beautiful, and so very terrifying. If she says yes, she may well live forever. But could she handle that?

Be like Elizabeth?

Impossible.

She places her hands on Elizabeth's ears.

"Close your eyes"

Elizabeth does so, and in the impromptu sensory deprivation, Eleanor kisses her. Soft. Sweet.

Mind to mind, Eleanor speaks, just as she did with Delta all those years ago.

"We've only been dating for five years. You can't be worried about these things just yet"

"I'm sorry. I know I'm being stupid. I know! But-"

Eleanor interrupts the thought with a kiss, adjusting their positions so that they are more comfortable. They relocate to the couch, with Elizabeth half-sitting on Eleanor's lap. "Be quiet for a second. Please. This is a lot to take in"

Elizabeth actually laughs, interrupting the warm stillness of the room.

"Yeah, sorry"

"It's okay. I really wish you had brought this up to me sooner. God, no wonder you've been so cagey. Elizabeth, I can't become like you"

Elizabeth's despair is a rock in the pit of her chest, sinking into stomach, a cold note of antifreeze in her bloodstream. Eleanor can feel it all, and pulls her girlfriend closer, buoying her to Eleanor's reassurance.

"I can't become like you, Elizabeth. You are destined for a greatness I can't even fathom, not even with my genius and DNA. I can't go where you are going because I need my life to mean something, and it won't mean something if I am your accessory into the beyond"

"You're being too idealistic, it would be nothing like that!"

"What am I without my ideals? I am satisfied with my life; with the mark I have made on the world. And with you by my side I have found a completion I hadn't thought possible. I love you so much, for what you have given me. But this life is the only one I want to live. But hey! I'm probably going to live far longer than an ordinary person. Maybe for a thousand years if I put my mind to it. We have so much time together Elizabeth! So please, stop looking at these other universes and…maybe focus on what you have right now"

Elizabeth snorts. "You think you're terribly clever don't you?"

"I try not to, but it's just too undeniable"

"Heh. A thousand years, huh?"

"Maybe even two-thousand, if I play my cards right"

She wants to cry, and almost does, but it's difficult to despair when you have a thousand years of happiness to look forward to. Perspective isn't always an easy tonic to swallow, but it can be. Being told to pay more attention to the present isn't bad advice for an omniscient person to get.

"I guess that's the most I can hope for"

"I'll make it worth your while"

Put on a brave face. Don't let her see you cry. Not now.

"You'd better"

And as Eleanor lifts her palms from Elizabeth's ears, and Elizabeth opens her eyes, she is greeted by a world that is complete unto itself, regardless of the existence of many worlds like it. She can feel the overlap of the multiverse ebbing away into the distance, leaving her moored here to this island plane, until the day she decides to take flight after it, like a songbird into the sky.

But for now, here in this cage, Elizabeth puts away her wings, and luxuriates in the feel of this, her lover, as much a part of this world as Elizabeth is a stranger to it, and thinks that so long as they are together, maybe being here for the next two-thousand years won't be so bad.

* * *

On a picturesque French country road, kissed by a sun that shines through a cloudless sky, the serene sound of the wind is interrupted by the terrible wretch of a car attempting to start, only to sputter and die a few seconds later. This sound is punctuated only by a scream of frustration.

"Why is this so hard!?" Yells Elizabeth, banging her fists against the steering wheel.

"You've almost got it. You just have to let up on the clutch a bit slower"

"Why didn't we rent an automatic car? This is stupid!"

"Well we didn't need to rent a car at all, but you insisted"

Elizabeth's breathing steadies as her grip on the steering wheel lessens to the point that her knuckles are no longer white. It's true, she had insisted.

"Let me try again"

She turns the key, keeping her foot on the clutch pedal, coaxing the old rental to a crotchety kind of purr. She cautiously switches the stick to first gear, as if afraid that doing so would stall the process entirely. When it doesn't, Eleanor makes an encouraging face, but Elizabeth is concentrating too hard on her foot to notice. Slowly, ever so slowly, she lifts her foot by a degree. The car does not stop, and encouraged by this, she tries to let her foot off just a bit more. Everything seems fine. The car moves ahead an inch.

She lets her foot off the clutch and the car lurches before lapsing into motionless silence.

In the windswept plain, the vague sound of someone yelling "FUUUUCK!" can be heard quite a ways away.

The small cabin of the car is not conducive to temper tantrums, and before too long Elizabeth has exhausted herself after stomping her feet on the floor and slamming her hands against the wheel one too many times.

Eleanor keeps her eyes on the road ahead, carefully pretending not to have noticed the outburst. "We can just teleport to the hotel if you want," She says eventually.

Elizabeth grabs the older woman's hand, thumbing it like a good luck charm, and finds peace once more. She, like the car lapses into silence.

"Walk me through this again," She says in a quiet voice.

"Are you sure you don't want to just teleport?"

"_Eleanor_"

"Okay! Okay!"

In self-imposed powerlessness, seething at the steering wheel of a car that belongs in a museum (or junkyard), Elizabeth feels more fulfilled than she ever has as Eleanor slowly walks her through the utterly mundane task of starting a manual car.


End file.
